HEA 


rs 


EMERSON     HOUGH 


.  —  .. ,— ,.  .■■■- 


HEART'S   DESIRE 


*&v& 


He  looked  up  —  to  see  her  standing  at  his  dook  ! 

Frontispiece. 


HEART'S 

DESIRE 

The  STORY  of  a  CONTENTED  TOWN 
CERTAIN  PECULIAR  CITIZENS 
and    TWO     FORTUNATE    LOVERS 


A  NOVEL  by  EMERSON  HOUGH 

AUTHOR  OF   THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE  o  o  o  o  o  THE  LAW  OF 
THE   LAND  o  o  o  o  THE  GIRL  AT  THE   HALF  WAY  HOUSE      ETC 


ILLUSTRATED 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
^  NEW  YORK        MCMV1I  <jf 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN    &    CO.,    Ltd. 


Copyright,  1903,  1904,  1905, 
By  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

COPYRIGHT,  1903, 

By  OUT  WEST  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1905, 
By  THE  RIDGWAY-THAYER  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1905, 
By  EMERSON  HOUGH. 

Copyright,  1905, 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  October,  1905.    Reprinted 
November,  1905 ;  Jsnuajy,  April,  1907. 


Norbjoott  $re«s 

J.  8.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   LAND   OF    HEART'S  DESIRE 

This  being  in  Part  the  Story  of  Curly,  the  Can  of  Oysters, 

and  the  Girl  from  Kansas      •        •        •        •        •        •        1 

CHAPTER  H 

THE   DINNER   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

This  continuing  the  Relation  of  Curly,  the  Can  of  Oysters, 

and  the  Girl  from  Kansas ;  and  introducing  Others       .      14 

CHAPTER  HI 

TRANSGRESSION   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

Beginning  the  Cause  Celebre  which  arose  from  Curly' s  killing 

the  Pig  of  the  Man  from  Kansas 26 

CHAPTER  IV 

THE   LAW  AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

Continuing  the  Story  of  the  Pig  from  Kansas,  and  the  Deep 

Damnation  of  his  Taking  Off 42 

CHAPTER  V 

EDEN   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

This  being  the  Story  of  a  Paradise;  also  showing  the  Exceed- 


ing Loneliness  of  Adam 

T 


54 


9128V3 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VI 

EVE   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 


PAGE 


How  the  Said  Eve  arrived  on  the  Same  Stage  with  Eastern 
Capital,  to  the  Interest  of  All,  and  the  Embarrassment 
of  Some 74 

CHAPTER  VH 

TEMPTATION   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

Showing  how  Paradise  was  lost  through  the  Strange  Perform- 
ance of  a  Craven  Adam  85 

CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   CORPORATION   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

This  being  the  Story  of  a  Parrot,  Certain  Twins,  and  a  Pair 

of  Candy  Legs       ........     105 

CHAPTER  IX 

CIVILIZATION   AT   HEART'S    DESIRE 

How  the  Men  of  Heart's  Desire  surrendered  to  the  Softening 

Seductions  of  Croquet  and  Other  Pastimes      .        •        .     124 

CHAPTER  X 

ART   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

How   Tom  Osby,  Common   Carrier,  caused   Trouble  with  a 

Portable  Annie  Laurie 135 


CHAPTER  XI 

OPERA   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

Telling  how  Two  Innocent  Travellers  by  Mere  Chance  col- 
lided with  a  Side-tracked  Star 150 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  XII 

THE   PRICE   OF   HEART'S   DE8IRE 

FAQS 

Concerning  Goods,  their  Value,  and  the  Delivery  of  the  Same    167 
CHAPTER  Xm 

BUSINESS   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

This  describing  Porter  Barkley's  Method  with  a  Man,  and 

Tom  Osby's  Way  with  a  Maid 177 

CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   GROUND   FLOOR   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

Proposing  Certain  Wonders  of  Modern  Progress,  as  wrought 

by  Eastern  Capital  and  Able  Corporation  Counsel         .    193 

CHAPTER  XV 

SCIENCE   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

This  being  the  Story  of  a  Cow  Puncher,  an  Osteopath,  and  a 

Cross-eyed  Horse 202 

CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   PARTITION  OF   HEART'S   DE8IRE 

Concerning  Real  Estate,  Love,  Friendship,  and  Other  Good 

and  Valuable  Considerations 221 

CHAPTER  XVn 

TREASON  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Showing  the  Dilemma  of  Dan  Anderson,  the  Doubt  of  Lead- 
ing Citizens,  and  the  Artless  Performance  of  a  Pastoral 
Prevaricator 234 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XVin 

THE   MEETING   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

PAGE 

How  Benevolent  Assimilation   was  checked  by  Unexpected 

Events 245 

CHAPTER  XIX 

COMMERCE   AT   HEART'S    DESIRE 

Showing  Wonders  of  the  Thirst  of  McGinnis,  and  the  Faith 

of  Whiteman  the  Jew 260 

CHAPTER  XX 

MEDICINE   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

How  the  Girl  from  the  States  kept  the  Set  of  Tvrins  from 

being  broken 274 

CHAPTER  XXI 

JUSTICE   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

The  Story  of  a  Sheriff  and  Some  Bad  Men  ;  showing  also  a 

Day's  Work,  and  a  Man's  Medicine  •  285 

CHAPTER  XXII 

ADVENTURE   AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

The  Strange  Story  of  the  King  of  Gee-Whiz,  and  his  Unusual 

Experience  in  Foreign  Parts 296 

CHAPTER  XXin 

PHILOSOPHY  AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

Showing  further  the  Uncertainty  of  Human  Events,  and  the 

Exceeding  Resourcefulness  of  Mr.  Thomas  Osby   .        .    314 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   CONSPIRACY  AT   HEART'S   DESIRE 

PAGB 

This  being  the  Story  of  a  Sheepherder,  Two  Warm  Personal 

Friends,  and  their  Love-letter  to  a  Beautiful  Queen        .    329 

CHAPTER  XXV 

ROMANCE   AT   HEART'8   DESIRE 

The  Pleasing  Recountal  of  an  A  bsent  Knight,  a  Gentle  Lady, 

and  an  Ananias  with  Spurs 344 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   GIRL   AT   HEART'S    DESIRE 

The  Story  of  a  Surprise,  a  Success,  and  Something  Else 

Very  Much  Better 354 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  He  looked  up  —  to  see  her  standing  at  his  door  !  "     Frontispiece 

FACIWO   PAOB 

"  Moreover,  as  to  the  Littlest  Girl,  all  Heart's  Desire  puffed 

out  its  chest" 16 

"-4s  he  went  out,  he  quietly  hung  up  his  six-shooter  behind 

the  door" 88 

11 '  The  umpire  decides  that  you've  got  to  check  your  guns 

during  the  game''  " 126 

"A  voice  which  sang  of  a  Face  that  was  the  Fairest,  and  of 

a  Dark  Blue  Eye  " 186 

"  At  the  end  of  it  there  was  a  woman  with  bowed  head  "        .     164 

"  ''And  just  whangs  old  Pinto  over  the  head  with  it  .  .  .  to 

show  him  there  ainH  no  coldness"1  "         ....    218 

***  Something   has   got   to   be  did,   and  did   mighty  blame 

quick »  " 326 


HEART'S  DESIRE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  LAND  OF  HEART'S  DESIRE 

This  being  in  Part  the  Story  of  Curly,  the  Can  of  Oysters, 
and  the  Girl  from  Kansas 

"It  looks  a  long  ways  acrost  from  here  to  the 
States,"  said  Curly,  as  we  pulled  up  our  horses  at 
the  top  of  the  Capitan  divide.  We  gazed  out  over 
a  vast,  rolling  sea  of  red-brown  earth  which  stretched 
far  beyond  and  below  the  nearer  foothills,  black  with 
their  growth  of  stunted  pines.  This  was  a  favorite 
pausing  place  of  all  travellers  between  the  county- 
seat  and  Heart's  Desire  ;  partly  because  it  was  a 
summit  reached  only  after  a  long  climb  from  either 
side  of  the  divide ;  partly,  perhaps,  because  it  was 
a  notable  view-point  in  a  land  full  of  noble  views. 
Again,  it  may  have  been  a  customary  tarrying  point 
because  of  some  vague  feeling  shared  by  most  tr:iv 
ellers  who  crossed  this  trail,  —  the  same  feeling  which 
made  Curly,  hardened  citizen  as  he  was  of  the  land 
west  of  the  Pecos,  turn  a  speculative  eye  eastward 
across  the  plains.  We  could  not  see  even  so  far  as 
the  Pecos,  though  it  seemed  from  our  lofty  situation 


2  HEART'S   DESIRE 

that  we  looked  quite  to  the  ultimate,  searching  the 
utter  end$  of  all  the  earth. 

"Yours  is  up  that-a-way;"  Curly  pointed  to  the 
northeast.  "Mine  was  that-a-way."  He  shifted  his 
leg  in  the  saddle  as  he  turned  to  the  right  and  swept 
a  comprehensive  hand  toward  the  east,  meaning  per- 
haps Texas,  perhaps  a  series  of  wild  frontiers  west 
of  the  Lone  Star  state.  I  noticed  the  nice  distinction 
in  Curly's  tenses.  He  knew  the  man  more  recently 
arrived  west  of  the  Pecos,  possibly  later  to  prove  a 
backslider.  As  for  himself,  Curly  knew  that  he  would 
never  return  to  his  wild  East;  yet  it  may  have  been 
that  he  had  just  a  touch  of  the  home  feeling  which 
is  so  hard  to  lose,  even  in  a  homeless  country,  a  man's 
country  pure  and  simple,  as  was  surely  this  which 
now  stretched  wide  about  us.  Somewhere  off  to  the 
east,  miles  and  miles  beyond  the  red  sea  of  sand  and 
grama  grass,  lay  Home. 

"And  yet,"  said  Curly,  taking  up  in  speech  my 
unspoken  thought,  "you  can't  see  even  halfway  to 
Vegas  up  there."  No.  It  was  a  long  two  hundred 
miles  to  Las  Vegas,  long  indeed  in  a  freighting  wagon, 
and  long  enough  even  in  the  saddle  and  upon  as  good 
a  horse  as  each  of  us  now  bestrode.  I  nodded.  "  And 
it's  some  more'n  two  whoops  and  a  holler  to  my 
ole  place,"  said  he.  Curly  remained  indefinite;  for, 
though  presently  he  hummed  something  about  the 
sun  and  its  brightness  in  his  old  Kentucky  home,  he 
followed  it  soon  thereafter  with  musical  allusion  to 


HEART'S   DESIRE  3 

the  Suwanee  River.  One  might  have  guessed  either 
Kentucky  or  Georgia  in  regard  td  Ourty,  even  had 
one  not  suspected  Texas  from  the  look  ot  his  saddle 
cinches. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas.  Yet  there  was 
little  winter  in  this  sweet,  thin  air  up  on  the  Capitan 
divide.  Off  to  the  left  the  Patos  Mountains  showed 
patches  of  snow,  and  the  top  of  Carrizo  was  yet  whiter, 
and  even  a  portion  of  the  highest  peak  of  the  Capi- 
tans  carried  a  blanket  of  white ;  but  all  the  lower 
levels  were  red-brown,  calm,  complete,  unchanging, 
like  the  whole  aspect  of  this  far-away  and  finished 
country,  whereto  had  come,  long  ago,  many  Span- 
iards in  search  of  wealth  and  dreams;  and  more 
recently  certain  Anglo-Saxons,  also  dreaming,  who 
sought  in  a  stolen  hiatus  of  the  continental  con- 
quest nothing  of  more  value  than  a  deep  and  sweet 
oblivion. 

It  was  a  Christmas-tide  different  enough  from  that 
of  the  States  toward  which  Curly  pointed.  We  looked 
eastward,  looked  again,  turned  back  for  one  last  look 
before  we  tightened  the  cinches  and  started  down  the 
winding  trail  which  led  through  the  foothills  along 
the  flank  of  the  Patos  Mountains,  and  so  at  last  int  \ 
the  town  of  Heart's  Desire. 

"Lord!"  said  Curly,  reminiscently,  and  quite  with- 
out connection  with  any  thought  which  had  been 
uttered.  "Say,  it  was  fine,  wasn't  it,  Christmas? 
We  alius  had  firecrackers  then.    And  eat!    Why, 


4  HEART'S  DESIRE 

man!"'!  ^Oiis  allusion  to  the  firecrackers  would  have 
determined  that'  Curly  -had  come  from  the  South, 
which'  alone  has  a  midwinter  Fourth  of  July,  possibly 
because  the  populace  is  not  content  with  only  one 
annual  smell  of  gunpowder.  "We  had  trees  where 
I  came  from/'  said  I.    "And  eat !    Yes,  man !" 

"Some  different  here  now,  ain't  it?"  said  Curly, 
grinning ;  and  I  grinned  in  reply  with  what  fortitude 
I  could  muster.  Down  in  Heart's  Desire  there  was 
a  little,  a  very  little  cabin,  with  a  bunk,  a  few  blank- 
ets, a  small  table,  and  a  box  nailed  against  the  wall 
for  a  cupboard.  I  knew  what  was  in  the  box,  and 
what  was  not  in  it,  and  I  so  advised  my  friend  as  we 
slipped  down  off  the  bald  summit  of  the  Capitans 
and  came  into  the  shelter  of  the  short,  black  pinons. 
Curly  rode  on  for  a  little  while  before  he  made 
answer. 

"Why,"  said  he,  at  length,  "ain't  you  heard? 
You're  in  with  our  rodeo  on  Christmas  dinner. 
McKinney,  and  Tom  Osby,  and  Dan  Anderson,  the 
other  lawyer,  and  me,  —  we're  going  to  have  Christ- 
mas dinner  at  Anderson's  'dobe  in  town  to-morrer. 
You're  in.  You  mayn't  like  it.  Don't  you  mind. 
The  directions  says  to  take  it,  and  you  take  it.  It's 
goin'  to  be  one  of  the  largest  events  ever  knowed 
in  this  here  settlement.  Of  course,  there's  goin'  to 
be  some  canned  things,  and  some  sardines,  and  some 
everidge  liquids.    You  guess  what   besides    that." 

I  told  him  I  couldn't  guess. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  5 

"Shore  you  couldn't,"  said  Curly,  dangling  his 
bridle  from  the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand  as  he 
searched  in  his  pocket  for  a  match.  He  had  rolled 
a  cigarette  with  one  hand,  and  now  he  called  it  a 
cigarrillo.  These  facts  alone  would  have  convicted 
him  of  coming  from  somewhere  near  the  Rio 
Grande. 

"Shore  you  couldn't,"  repeated  Curly,  after  he 
had  his  bit  of  brown  paper  going.  "I  reckon  not 
in  a  hundred  years.  Champagne!  Whole  quart! 
Yes,  sir.  Cost  eighteen  dollars.  Mac,  he  got  it. 
Billy  Hudgens  had  just  this  one  bottle  in  the  shop, 
left  over  from  the  time  the  surveyors  come  over  here 
and  we  thought  there  was  goin'  to  be  a  railroad, 
which  there  wasn't.  But  Lord!  that  ain't  all.  It 
ain't  the  beginnin'.  You  guess  again.  No,  I  reckon 
you  couldn't,"  said  he,  scornfully.  "You  couldn't 
in  your  whole  life  guess  what  next.  We  got  a 
cake!'1 

"Go  on,  Curly,"  said  I,  scoffingly;  for  I  knew  that 
the  possibilities  of  Heart's  Desire  did  not  in  the 
least  include  anything  resembling  cake.  Any  of 
the  boys  could  fry  bacon  or  build  a  section  of  bread 
in  a  Dutch  oven  —  they  had  to  know  how  to  do  that 
or  starve.  But  as  to  cake,  there  was  none  couid 
compass  it.  And  I  knew  there  was  not  a  woman  in 
all  Heart's  Desire. 

Curly  enjoyed  his  advantage  for  a  few  moments 
as  we  wound  on  down  the  trail  among  the  pinons. 


6  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Heap  o'  things  happened  since  you  went  down  to 
tend  co'te,"  said  he.  "You  likely  didn't  hear  of 
the  new  family  moved  in  last  week.  Come  from 
Kansas.'' 

"Then  there's  a  girl/'  said  I;  for  I  was  far  West- 
erner enough  to  know  that  all  the  girls  ever  seen  west 
of  the  Pecos  came  from  Kansas,  the  same  as  all  the 
baled  hay  and  all  the  fresh  butter.  Potatoes  came 
from  Iowa;  but  butter,  hay,  and  girls  came  from 
Kansas.  I  asked  Curly  if  the  head  of  the  new  family 
came  from  Leavenworth. 

"'Course  he  did,"  said  Curly.  "And  I'll  bet  a 
steer  he'll  be  postmaster  or  somethin'  in  a  few  brief 
moments."  This  in  reference  to  another  well-known 
fact  in  natural  history  as  observed  west  of  the  Pecos ; 
for  it  was  matter  of  common  knowledge  among  all 
Western  men  that  the  town  of  Leavenworth  fur- 
nished early  office-holders  for  every  new  community 
from  the  Missouri  to  the  Pacific. 

Curly  continued:  "This  feller'll  do  well  here,  I 
reckon,  though  just  now  he's  broke  a-plenty.  But 
what  was  he  goin'  to  do?  His  team  breaks  down 
and  he  can't  get  no  further.  Looks  like  he'd  just 
have  to  stop  and  be  postmaster  or  somethin'  for  us 
here  for  a  while.  Can't  be  Justice  of  the  Peace; 
another  Kansas  man's  got  that.  As  to  them  two 
girls  —  man !  The  camp's  got  on  its  best  clothes 
right  this  instant,  don't  you  neglect  to  think.  Both 
good  lookers.    Youngest 's  a  peach.    I'm  goin'   to 


HEART'S  DESIRE  7 

marry  her. "  Curly  turned  aggressively  in  his  saddle 
and  looked  me  squarely  in  the  eye,  his  hat  pushed 
back  from  his  tightly  curling  red  hair. 

" That's  all  right,  Curly,"  said  I,  mildly.  "You 
have  my  consent.  Have  you  asked  the  girl  about  it 
yet?" 

"Ain't  had  time  yet,"  said  he.  "But  you  watch 
me." 

"What's  the  name  of  the  family?"  I  asked  as 
we  rode  along  together. 

"Blamed  if  I  remember  exactly,"  replied  Curly, 
scratching  his  head,  "but  they're  shore  good  folks. 
Old  man's  sort  o'  pious,  I  reckon.  Anyhow,  that's 
what  Tom  Osby  says.  He  driv  along  from  Hocradle 
canon  with  'em  on  the  road  from  Vegas.  Said  the 
old  man  helt  services  every  mornin'  before  break- 
fast. More  services'n  breakfast  sometimes.  Tom, 
he  says  old  Whiskers  —  that's  our  next  postmaster  — 
he  sings  a-plenty,  lifts  up  his  voice  exceedin'.  Say," 
said  Curly,  turning  on  me  again  fiercely,  "that's  one 
reason  I'd  marry  the  girl  if  for  nothing  else.  It 
takes  more'n  a  bass  voice  and  a  copy  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures  to  make  a  Merry  Christmas.  Why,  man, 
say,  when  I  think  of  what  a  time  we  all  are  going  to 
have,  —  you,  and  me,  and  Mac,  and  Tom  Osby,  and 
Dan  Anderson,  with  all  them  things  of  our'n,  and  all 
these  here  things  on  the  side  —  champagne  and  all 
that, —it  looks  like  this  world  ain't  run  on  the  square, 
don't  it  ?  " 


8  HEART'S  DESIRE 

I  assured  Curly  that  this  had  long  been  one  of 
my  own  conclusions.  Assuredly  I  had  not  the  bad 
manners  to  thank  him  for  his  invitation  to  join  him 
in  this  banquet  at  Heart's  Desire,  knowing  as  I  did 
Curly's  acquaintance  with  the  fact  that  young  at- 
torneys had  not  always  abundance  during  their  first 
year  in  a  quasi-mining  camp  that  was  two-thirds 
cow  town;  such  being  among  the  possibilities  of  that 
land.    I  returned  to  the  cake. 

"  Where'd  we  git  it  ?  "  said  Curly.  "  Why,  where'd 
you  s'pose  we  got  it?  Do  you  think  Dan  Anderson 
has  took  to  pastry  along  with  the  statoots  made  and 
pervided?  As  for  Dan,  he  ain't  been  here  so  very 
long,  but  he's  come  to  stay.  We're  goin'  to  send 
him  to  Congress  if  we  ever  get  time  to  organize  our 
town,  or  find  out  what  county  we're  in.  How'd 
our  Delergate  look  spreadin'  jelly  cake?  Nope,  he 
didn't  make  it.  And  does  it  look  any  like  Mac  has 
studied  bakery  doin's  out  on  the  Carrizoso  ranch? 
You  know  Tom  Osby  couldn't.  As  for  me,  if  hard 
luck  has  ever  driv  me  to  cookin'  in  the  past,  I  ain't 
referrin'  to  it  now.  I'm  a  straight-up  cow  puncher 
and  nothin'  else.  That  cake?  Why,  it  come  from 
the  Kansas  outfit. 

"  Don't  know  which  one  of  'em  done  it,  but  it's  a 
honey,"  he  went  on.  "Say,  she's  a  foot  high,  with 
white  stuff  a  inch  high  all  over.  She's  soft  around 
the  aidge  some,  for  I  stuck  my  finger  intoe  it  just 
a  little.    We  just  got  it  recent  and  we're  night- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  9 

herdin'  it  where  it's  cool.  Cost  a  even  ten  dollars. 
The  old  lady  said  she'd  make  the  price  all  right,  but 
Mac  and  me,  we  sort  of  sized  up  things  and  allowed 
we'd  drop  about  a  ten  in  their  recep^cle  when  we 
come  to  pay  for  that  cake.  This  family,  you  see, 
moved  intoe  the  cabin  Hank  Fogarty  and  Jim  Bond 
left  when  they  went  away,  —  it's  right  acrost  the 
'royo  from  Dan  Anderson's  office,  where  we're  goin' 
to  eat  to-morrer. 

"Now,  how  that  woman  could  make  a  cake  like 
this  here  in  one  of  them  narrer,  upside-down  Mexican 
ovens  —  no  stove  at  all  —  no  nothing  —  say,  that's 
some  like  adoptin'  yourself  to  circumstances,  ain't 
it  ?  Why,  man,  I'd  marry  intoe  that  fam'ly  if  I 
didn't  do  nothing  else  long  as  I  lived.  They  ain't 
no  Mexican  money  wrong  side  of  the  river.  No 
counterfeit  there  regardin'  a  happy  home  —  cuttin' 
out  the  bass  voice  and  givin'  'em  a  leetle  better  line 
of  grass  and  water,  eh?  Well,  I  reckon  not.  Watch 
me  fly  to  it." 

The  idiom  of  Curly's  speech  was  at  times  a  trifle 
obscure  to  the  uneducated  ear.  I  gathered  that  he 
believed  these  newcomers  to  be  of  proper  social 
rank,  and  that  he  was  also  of  the  opinion  that  a 
tain  mending  in  their  material  matters  might  add  to 
the  happiness  of  the  family. 

"But  say,"  he  began  again  shortly,  "I  ain't  told 
you  half  about  our  dinner." 

"That  is  to  say—  "  said  I. 


10  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"We're  go-in'  to  have  oysters!"  he  replied. 

"Oh,  Curly!"  objected  I,  petulantly,  "what's  the 
use  lying?  I'll  agree  that  you  may  perhaps  marry 
the  girl  —  I  don't  care  anything  about  that.  But 
as  to  oysters,  you  know  there  never  was  an  oyster 
in  Heart's  Desire,  and  never  will  be,  world  without 
end." 

"Huh!"  said  Curly.  "Huh!"  And  presently, 
"Is  that  so f" 

"You  know  it's  so,"  said  I. 

"Is  that  so?"  reiterated  he  once  more.  "Nice 
way  to  act,  ain't  it,  when  you're  ast  out  to  dinner 
in  the  best  society  of  the  place?  Tell  a  feller  he's 
shy  on  facts,  when  all  he's  handin'  out  is  just  the 
plain,  unfreckled  truth,  for  onct  at  least.  We  got 
oysters,  four  cans  of  'em,  and  done  had  'em  for  a 
month.  They're  up  there."  He  jerked  a  thumb 
toward  the  top  of  old  Carrizo  Mountain.  I  looked 
at  the  snow,  and  in  a  flash  comprehended.  There, 
indeed,  was  cold  storage,  the  only  cold  storage  pos- 
sible in  Heart's  Desire ! 

"Tom  Osby  brought  'em  down  from  Vegas  the 
last  time  he  come  down,"  said  Curly.  "They're 
there,  sir,  four  cans  of  'em.  You  know  where  the 
Carrizo  spring  is  ?  Well,  there's  a  snowbank  in  that 
canon,  about  two  hundred  yards  off  to  the  left  of  the 
spring.  The  oysters  is  in  there.  Keep?  They  got 
to  keep ! 

"Them's  the  only  oysters  ever  was  knowed  be- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  n 

tween  the  Pecos  and  the  Rio  Grande/'  he  continued 
pridefully.  "Now  I  want  to  ask  you,  friend,  if  this 
ain't  just  a  leetle  the  dashed  blamedest,  hottest  Christ- 
mas dinner  ever  was  pulled  off?" 

"Curly,"  said  I,  "you  are  a  continuous  surprise 
to  me." 

"The  trouble  with  you  is,"  said  Curly,  lighting 
another  cigarette,  "you  look  the  wrong  way  from 
the  top  of  the  divide.  Never  mind  about  home  and 
mother.  Them  is  States  institooshuns.  The  only 
feller  any  good  here  is  the  feller  that  comes  to  stay, 
and  likes  it.    You  like  it?" 

"Yes,  Curly,"  I  replied  seriously,  "I  do  like  it, 
and  I'm  going  to  stay  if  I  can. " 

"Well,  you  be  mighty  blamed  careful  if  that's  the 
way  you  feel  about  it,"  said  Curly.  "I  got  my  own 
eye  on  that  girl  from  Kansas,  and  I  serve  notice  right 
here.  No  use  for  you  or  Mac  or  any  of  you  to  be 
a-tryin'  to  cut  out  any  stock  for  me.  I  seen  it 
first." 

We  dropped  down  and  ever  down  as  we  rode  on 
along  the  winding  mountain  trail.  The  dark  sides 
of  the  Patos  Mountains  edged  around  to  the  back  of 
us,  and  the  scarred  flanks  of  big  Carrizo  came  farther 
and  farther  forward  along  our  left  cheeks  as  we  rode 
on.  Then  the  trail  made  a  sharp  bend  to  the  left, 
zigzagged  a  bit  to  get  through  a  series  of  broken 
ravines,  and  at  last  topped  the  low  false  divide  which 
rose  at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley  of  Heart's  Desire. 


12  HEART'S  DESIRE 

It  was  a  spot  lovely,  lovable.  Nothing  in  all  the 
West  is  more  fit  to  linger  in  a  man's  memory  than 
the  imperious  sun  rising  above  the  valley  of  Heart's 
Desire;  nothing  unless  it  were  the  royal  purple  of 
the  sunset,  trailed  like  a  robe  across  the  shoulders 
of  the  grave  unsmiling  hills,  which  guarded  it  round 
about.  In  Heart's  Desire  it  was  so  calm,  so  com- 
plete, so  past  and  beyond  all  fret  and  worry  and 
caring.  Perhaps  the  man  who  named  it  did  so  in 
grim  jest,  as  was  the  manner  of  the  early  bitter  ones 
who  swept  across  the  Western  lands.  Perhaps  again 
he  named  it  at  sunset,  and  did  so  reverently.  God 
knows  he  named  it  right. 

There  was  no  rush  nor  hurry,  no  bickering  nor 
envying,  no  crowding  nor  thieving  there.  Heart's 
Desire!  It  was  well  named,  indeed;  fit  capital  for 
the  malcontents  who  sought  oblivion,  dreaming, 
long  as  they  might,  that  Life  can  be  left  aside  when 
one  grows  weary  of  it;  dreaming  —  ah!  deep,  foolish, 
golden  dream  —  that  somewhere  there  is  on  earth  an 
Eden  with  no  Eve  and  without  a  flaming  sword ! 

The  town  all  lay  along  one  deliberate,  crooked 
street,  because  the  arroyo  along  which  it  straggled 
was  crooked.  Its  buildings  were  mostly  of  adobe, 
with  earthen  roofs,  so  low  that  when  one  saw  a  rain- 
storm coming  in  the  rainy  season  (when  it  rained 
invariably  once  a  day),  he  went  forth  with  a  shovel 
and  shingled  his  roof  anew,  standing  on  the  ground 
as  he  did  so.    There  were  a  few  cabins  built  of  logs, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  13 

but  very  few.  Only  one  or  two  stores  had  the  high 
board  front  common  in  Western  villages.  Lumber 
was  very  scarce  and  carpenters  still  scarcer.  How 
the  family  from  Kansas  had  happened  to  drift  into 
Heart's  Desire  —  how  a  man  of  McKinney's  intelli- 
gence had  come  to  settle  there  —  how  Dan  Anderson, 
a  very  good  lawyer,  happened  to  have  tarried  there 
—  how  indeed  any  of  us  happened  to  be  there,  are 
questions  which  may  best  be  solved  by  those  who 
have  studied  the  West-bound,  the  dream-bound,  the 
malcontents.  At  any  rate,  here  we  were,  and  it  was 
Christmas-time.  The  very  next  morning  would  be 
that  of  Christmas  Day. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  DINNER  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

This  continuing  the  Relation  of  Curly,  the  Can  of  Oysters, 
and  the  Girl  from  Kansas  ;  and  Introducing  Others 

There  were  no  stockings  hung  up  in  Heart's 
Desire  that  Christmas  Eve,  for  all  the  population 
was  adult,  male,  and  stern  of  habit.  The  great  moon 
flooded  the  street  with  splendor.  Afar  there  came 
voices  of  rioting.  There  were  some  adherents  to 
the  traditions  of  the  South  in  regard  to  firecrackers 
at  Yuletide,  albeit  the  six-shooter  furnished  the  only 
firecracker  obtainable.  Yet  upon  that  night  the  very 
shots  seemed  cheerful,  not  ominous,  as  was  usually 
the  case  upon  that  long  and  crooked  street,  which 
had  seen  duels,  affairs,  affrays,  —  even  riots  of 
mounted  men  in  the  days  when  the  desperadoes  of 
the  range  came  riding  into  town  now  and  again  for 
love  of  danger,  or  for  lack  of  aguardiente.  It  was  so 
very  white  and  solemn  and  content,  —  this  street  of 
Heart's  Desire  on  Christmas  Eve.  Far  across  the 
arroyo,  as  Curly  had  said,  there  gleamed  red  the 
double  windows  of  the  cabin  which  had  been  pre- 
empted by  the  man  from  Leavenworth.     To-night 

14 


HEART'S  DESIRE  15 

the  man  from  Leavenworth  sat  with  bowed  head  and 
beard  upon  his  bosom. 

Christmas  Day  dawned,  brilliant,  glorious.  There 
was  not  a  Christmas  tree  in  all  Heart's  Desire.  There 
was  not  a  child  within  two  hundred  miles  who  had 
ever  seen  a  Christmas  tree.  There  was  not  a  woman 
in  all  Heart's  Desire  saving  those  three  newcomers 
in  the  cabin  across  the  arroyo.  Yet  these  new- 
comers were  acquainted  with  the  etiquette  of  the 
land.  There  was  occasion  for  public  announcement 
in  such  matters. 

At  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  man  from 
Leavenworth  and  the  Littlest  Girl  from  Kansas  came 
out  upon  the  street.  They  were  ostensibly  bound  to 
get  the  mail,  although  there  had  been  no  mail  stage 
for  three  days,  and  could  be  none  for  four  days 
more,  even  had  the  man  from  Leavenworth  enter- 
tained the  slightest  thought  of  getting  any  mail  at 
this  purely  accidental  residence  into  which  the  fate 
of  a  tired  team  had  thrown  him.  Yet  there  must 
be  the  proper  notification  that  he  and  his  family 
had  concluded  to  abide  in  Heart's  Desire;  that  he 
was  now  a  citizen;  that  he  was  now  entitled  by  the 
length  of  his  beard  to  be  called  "'Squire,"  and  to  1 
accepted  into  all  the  councils  of  the  town.  This 
walk  along  the  street  was  notice  to  the  pure  democ- 
racy of  that  land  that  all  might  now  leave  cards  at 
the  cabin  across  the  arroyo.  One  need  hardly  doubt 
that  the  populace  of  Heart's  Desire  was  lined  up  along 


16  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  street  to  say  good  morning  and  to  receive  be- 
fittingly  this  tacit  pledge  of  its  newest  citizen.  More- 
over, as  to  the  Littlest  Girl,  all  Heart's  Desire  puffed 
out  its  chest.  Once  more,  indeed,  the  camp  was 
entitled  to  hold  up  its  head.  There  were  Women 
in  the  town!  Ergo  Home;  ergo  Civilization;  ergo 
Society;  and  ergo  all  the  rest.  Heretofore  Heart's 
Desire  had  wilfully  been  but  an  unorganized  section 
of  savagery;  but  your  Anglo  Saxon,  craving  ever 
savagery,  has  no  sooner  found  it  than  he  seeks  to 
civilize  it ;  there  being  for  him  in  his  aeon  of  the 
world  no  real  content  or  peace. 

"I  reckon  the  old  man  is  goin'  to  take  a  look  at 
the  post-office  to  see  how  he  likes  the  place,"  said 
Curly,  reflectively,  as  he  gazed  after  the  gentleman 
whom  he  had  frankly  elected  as  his  father-in-law. 
"  He'll  get  it,  all  right.  Never  saw  a  man  from 
Leavenworth  who  wasn't  a  good  shot  at  a  post- 
office.  But  say,  about  that  Littlest  Girl  —  well,  I 
wonder!" 

Curly  was  very  restless  until  dinner-time,  which, 
for  one  reason  or  another,  was  postponed  until  about 
four  of  the  afternoon.  We  met  at  Dan  Anderson's 
law  office,  which  was  also  his  residence,  a  room  about 
a  dozen  feet  by  twenty  in  size.  The  bunks  were 
cleaned  up,  the  blankets  put  out  of  the  way,  and  the 
centre  of  the  room  given  over  to  a  table,  small  and 
home-made,  but  very  full  of  good  cheer  for  that 
time  and  place.    At  the  fireplace,  McKinney,  flushed 


NVyNK^^-^Wt-^     \ 


Moreover,  as  to  the  Littlest  Girl,  all  Heart's  Desire  pukkkd 
out  its  chest. " 


HEART'S  DESIRE  17 

and  red,  was  broiling  some  really  good  loin  steaks. 
McKinney  also  allowed  his  imagination  to  soar  to 
the  height  of  biscuits.  Coffee  was  there  assuredly, 
as  one  might  tell  by  the  welcome  odor  now  ascend- 
ing. Upon  the  table  there  was  something  masked 
under  an  ancient  copy  of  a  newspaper.  Outside  the 
door  of  the  adobe,  in  the  deepest  shade  obtainable, 
sat  two  soap  boxes  full  of  snow,  or  at  least  partly 
full,  for  Tom  Osby  had  done  his  best.  In  one  of 
these  boxes  appeared  the  proof  of  Curly's  truthful- 
ness —  three  cans  of  oysters,  delicacies  hitherto  un- 
heard of  in  that  land!  In  the  other  box  was  an 
object  almost  as  unfamiliar  as  an  oyster  can,  —  an 
oblong,  smooth  and  now  partially  frost-covered  ob- 
ject with  tinfoil  about  its  upper  end.  A  certain 
tense  excitement  obtained. 

"I  wonder  if  she'll  get  frappe  enough,"  said  Dan 
Anderson.  He  was  a  Princeton  man  once  upon  a 
time. 

"It  don't  make  no  difference  about  the  frappy 
part,"  said  Curly,  "just  so  she  gets  cold  enough.  I 
reckon  I  savvy  wine  some.  I  never  was  up  the  trail, 
not  none!    No,  I  reckon  not!    Huh?" 

We  agreed  on  Curly's  worldliness  cheerfully;  in- 
deed, agreed  cheerfully  that  all  the  world  was  a 
good  place  and  all  its  inhabitants  were  everything 
that  could  be  asked.  Life  was  young  and  fresh  and 
strong.  The  spell  of  Heart's  Desire  was  upon  us  all 
that  Christmas  Day. 


18  HEAKT'S  DESIRE 

"Now,"  said  Curly,  dropping  easily  into  the  some- 
what vague  position  of  host,  when  McKinney  had 
finally  placed  his  platter  of  screeching  hot  steaks  upon 
the  table.  "Now,  then,  grub  pi-i-i-i-le ! "  He  sang 
the  summons  loud  and  clear,  as  it  has  sounded  on 
many  a  frosty  morning  or  sultry  noon  in  many  a 
corner  of  the  range.  "Set  up,  fellers,"  said  Curly. 
"It's  bridles  off  now,  and  cinches  down,  and  the 
trusties  next  to  the  mirror."  (By  this  speech  Curly 
probably  meant  that  the  time  was  one  of  ease  and 
safety,  wherein  one  might  place  his  six-shooter  back 
of  the  bar,  in  sign  that  he  was  in  search  of  no  man, 
and  that  none  was  in  search  of  him.  It  was  not 
good  form  to  eat  in  a  private  family  in  Heart's 
Desire  with  one's  gun  at  one's  belt.) 

We  sat  down  and  McKinney  uncovered  the  cake 
which  had  been  made  by  the  wife  of  the  man 
from  Leavenworth.  It  appeared  somewhat  imposing. 
Curly  wanted  to  cut  into  it  at  the  first  course,  but 
Dan  Anderson  rebelled  and  coaxed  him  off  upon  the 
subject  of  oysters.  There  was  abundance  for  all. 
The  cake  itself  would  have  weighed  perhaps  five  or 
six  pounds.  There  was  a  part  of  a  can  of  oysters 
for  each  man,  any  quantity  of  wholesome  steaks  and 
coffee,  with  condensed  milk  if  one  cared  for  it,  and  at 
least  enough  champagne  for  any  one  who  cared  for 
precisely  that  sort  of  champagne. 

It  was  nightfall  before  we  were  willing  to  leave  the 
little  pine  table.    Meantime  we  had  talked  of  many 


HEART'S  DESIRE  19 

things;  of  the  new  strike  on  the  Homestake,  of 
the  vein  of  coal  lately  found  in  the  Patos,  of  Apache 
rumors  below  Tularosa,  and  other  matters  interest- 
ing to  citizens  of  that  land.  We  mentioned  an 
impending  visit  of  Eastern  Capital  bent  upon  investi- 
gating our  mineral  wealth.  We  spoke  of  the  vague 
rumor  that  a  railroad  was  heading  north  from  El 
Paso,  and  might  come  close  to  Heart's  Desire  if  all 
went  well ;  and,  generous  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
hour,  we  builded  upon  that  fancy,  ending  by  a  toast 
to  Dan  Anderson  as  our  first  delegate  to  Congress. 
Dan  bowed  gravely,  not  knowing  the  future  any 
more  than  ourselves.  Nor  should  it  be  denied  that 
there  was  talk  of  the  new  inhabitants  across  the 
arroyo.  The  morning  promenade  of  the  man  from 
Leavenworth  had  been  productive  of  results  ;  add  to 
these  the  results  of  so  noble  a  feast  as  this  Christmas 
dinner  of  ours,  and  it  was  foregone  that  our  hearts 
must  expand  to  include  in  welcome  all  humanity 
west  of  the  Pecos. 

After  all,  no  man  is  better  than  the  prettiest  woman 
in  his  environment.  As  to  these  girls  from  Kansas, 
it  is  to  be  said  that  there  had  never  before  been  a 
real  woman  in  Heart's  Desire.  You,  who  have  always 
lived  where  there  is  law,  and  society,  and  women, 
and  home,  —  you  cannot  know  what  it  is  to  see  all 
these  things  gradually  or  swiftly  dawning  upon  your 
personal  horizon.  Yet  this  was  the  way  of  Heart's 
Desire,  where  women  and  law  and  property  were  not 


20  HEART'S  DESIRE 

It  was  perhaps  the  moon,  or  perhaps  youth,  or 
perhaps  this  state  of  life  to  which  I  have  referred. 
Assuredly  the  street  was  again  flooded  with  a  grand, 
white  moonlight,  bright  almost  as  a  Northern  day, 
when  we  looked  out  of  the  little  window. 

Dan  Anderson  was  the  first  to  speak,  after  a  silence 
which  had  fallen  amidst  the  dense  tobacco  smoke. 
"It  cost  us  less  than  fifteen  dollars  a  plate,"  said  he. 
"I've  paid  more  for  worse  —  yes,  a  lot  worse.  But 
by  the  way,  Mac,  where's  that  other  can  of  oysters? 
I  thought  you  said  there  were  four. " 

"That's  what  I  said,"  broke  in  Tom  Osby.  "I 
done  told  Mac  I  ought  to  bring  'em  all  down,  but 
he  said  only  three." 

"Well,"  said  McKinney,  always  a  conservative 
and  level-headed  man,  "I  allowed  that  if  they  would 
keep  a  month,  they  would  keep  a  little  longer.  Now 
you  all  know  there's  goin'  to  be  a  stage  in  next 
week,  and  likely  it'll  bring  the  president  of  the  New 
Jersey  Gold  Mills,  who's  been  due  here  a  couple  of 
weeks.  Now  here  we  are,  hollerin'  all  the  time  for 
Eastern  Capital.  What's  the  right  thing  for  us  to 
do  when  we  get  any  Eastern  Capital  into  our  town  ? 
This  here  man  comes  from  Philadelphy,  which  I 
reckon  is  right  near  the  place  where  oysters  grows. 
What  are  you  goin'  to  dot  He's  used  to  oysters; 
like  enough  he  eats  'em  every  day  in  the  year,  be- 
cause he's  shore  rich.  First  thing  he  hollers  for 
when  he  gets  here  is  oysters.    Looks  like  you  all 


HEART'S  DESIRE  21 

didn't  have  no  public  spirit.  Are  we  goin'  to  give 
this  here  Eastern  man  the  things  he's  used  to,  kinder 
gentle  him  along  like,  you  know,  and  so  get  all  the 
closeter  and  easier  to  him,  or  are  we  goin'  to  throw 
him  down  cold,  and  leave  him  dissatisfied  the  first 
day  he  strikes  our  camp  ?  It  shore  looks  to  me  like 
there  ain't  but  one  way  to  answer  that." 

"And  that  there  one  answer,"  said  Tom  Osby, 
"is  now  a-rechnin'  in  the  snowbank  up  on  Carrizy." 

"I  reckon  that's  so,  all  right,  Mac, "  assented  Curly, 
reflectively.  "I  could  have  et  one  more  oyster  or  so, 
but  I  can  quit  if  it's  for  the  good  of  the  country. " 

"Well,  I'm  feeling  just  a  little  bit  guilty  as  it  is," 
said  Dan  Anderson,  who  was  in  fairly  good  post- 
prandial condition.  "Here  we  are,  eating  like  lords. 
Now  who  knows  what  that  poor  family  from  Kansas 
is  having  for  Christmas  dinner  ?  Mac,  I  appoint  you 
a  committee  of  one  to  see  how  they  are  getting  along. 
Pass  the  hat.  Make  it  about  ten  for  the  cake. 
Come  on,  now,  let's  find  out  about  these  folks  " 

Curly  was  distinctly  unhappy  all  the  time  McKinney 
was  away.  It  was  half  an  hour  before  the  latter 
came  back,  but  the  look  on  his  face  betrayed  him. 
Dan  Anderson  made  him  confess  that  he  still  ha^ 
the  ten  dollars  in  his  pocket,  that  he  had  been  afraid 
to  knock  at  the  door,  and  that  he  had  learned  noth- 
ing whatever  of  the  household  from  Kansas.  McKin- 
ney admitted  that  his  nerve  had  failed,  and  that  he 
dared  not  knock,  but  he  said  that  he  had  summoned 


22  HEART'S  DESIRE 

courage  enough  to  look  in  at  the  window.  The 
family  had  either  finished  its  dinner  long  ago,  had 
not  eaten,  or  did  not  intend  to  eat  at  all.  "The 
table  looked  some  shy,"  declared  McKinney.  Be- 
yond this  he  was  incoherent,  distressed,  and  plainly 
nervous.  Silence  fell  upon  the  entire  group,  and  for 
some  time  each  man  in  Dan  Anderson's  salon  was 
wrapped  in  thought.  Perhaps  each  one  cast  a  fur- 
tive look  from  the  tail  of  his  eye  at  his  neighbors. 
Of  all  present,  Curly  seemed  the  happiest.  "  Didn't 
see  the  Littlest  Girl?"  he  asked.  McKinney  shook 
his  head. 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  be  gettin'  up  to  see  about  my 
wagon  before  long,"  said  Tom  Osby,  rising  and  knock- 
ing his  pipe  upon  his  boot-heel.  "I've  got  a  few  cans 
of  stuff  up  here  in  my  load  that  I  don't  really  need. 
In  the  mornin',  you  know  —  well,  so  long,  boys." 

"I  heard  that  Jim  Peterson  killed  a  deer  the  other 
day,"  suggested  Dan  Anderson.  "I  believe  I'll  just 
step  over  and  see  if  I  can't  get  a  quarter  of  venison  for 
those  folks." 

" Shore,"  said  McKinney,  "I'll  go  along.  No,  I 
won't;  I'll  take  a  pasear  acrost  the  street  and  have 
a  look  at  a  little  stuff  I  brung  up  from  the  ranch 
yesterday." 

"No  Christmas,"  said  Curly,  staring  ahead  of  him- 
self into  the  tobacco  smoke,  and  indulging  in  a  rare 
soliloquy.  "No  Christmas  dinner  —  and  this  here  is 
in  Ameriky !" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  23 

It  is  difficult  to  tell  just  how  it  occurred;  but  pres- 
ently, had  any  one  of  us  turned  to  look  about  him, 
he  must  have  found  himself  alone.  The  moonlight 
streamed  brilliantly  over  the  long  street  of  Heart's 
Desire.  .  .  .  The  scarred  sides  of  old  Carrizo  looked  so 
close  that  one  might  almost  have  touched  them  with 
one's  hand.  .  .  . 

It  was  about  three  miles  from  the  street,  up  over 
the  foot-hills,  along  the  flat  canon  which  debouched 
below  the  spring  where  lay  the  snowbank.  There 
were  different  routes  which  one  could  take.  .  .  . 

I  knew  the  place  very  well  from  Curly's  descrip- 
tion, and  found  it  easy  to  follow  up  the  trickle  of 
water  which  came  down  the  canon  from  the  spring. 
Having  found  the  spring,  it  was  easy  to  locate  the  spot 
in  the  snowbank  where  the  oysters  had  been  cached. 
I  was  not  conscious  of  tarrying  upon  the  way,  yet, 
even  so,  there  had  been  feet  more  swift  than  mine. 
As  I  came  up  to  the  spring,  I  heard  voices  and  saw 
two  forms  sitting  at  the  edge  of  the  snowbank. 

" Here's  another  one!"  called  out  Dan  Anderson 
as  I  appeared ;  and  forthwith  they  broke  into  peals 
of  unrighteous  laughter.  "You're  a  little  slow; 
you're  number  three;  Mac  was  first." 

"I  thought  I  heard  an  elk  as  I  came  up,"  said  I,  as 
I  sat  down  beside  the  others  and  tried  to  look  uncon- 
cerned, although  plainly  out  of  breath. 

"Elk !"  snorted  McKinney,  as  he  arose  and  walked 
to  the  other  edge  of  the  snowbank.     "Here's  your 


24  HEART'S  DESIRE 

elk  tracks."  McKinney,  foreman  on  Carrizoso,  was  an 
old  range-rider,  and  he  was  right.  Here  was  the  track, 
plunging  through  the  snow,  and  here  was  a  deep  hole 
where  an  elk,  or  something,  had  digged  hurriedly, 
deeply,  and,  as  it  proved,  effectively. 

"Elk!"  said  McKinney  again,  savagely.  "Damn 
that  cow  puncher !  He  took  to  his  horse,  'course  he 
did,  and  not  one  of  us  thought  of  ridin\  Who'd  ever 
think  a  man  would  ride  up  here  at  all,  let  alone  at 
night?    Come  on,  fellers,  we  might  as  well  go  home." 

"Well,  I'm  pleased  to  have  met  you,  gentlemen," 
said  Anderson,  lighting  a  philosophic  pipe,  "and  I 
don't  mind  walking  back  with  you.  It's  a  trifle  lone- 
some in  the  hills  after  dark.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
you  were  coming  up  ?  "  He  grinned  with  what  seemed 
to  us  bad  taste. 

When  we  got  down  across  the  foot-hills  and  into  the 
broad  white  street  of  Heart's  Desire,  we  espied  a  dark 
figure  slowly  approaching.  It  proved  to  be  Tom  Osby, 
who  later  declared  that  he  had  found  himself  unable 
to  sleep.  He  had  things  in  his  pockets.  By  com- 
mon consent  we  now  turned  our  footsteps  across  the 
arroyo,  toward  the  cabin  where  dwelt  the  family  from 
Kansas. 

The  house  of  the  man  from  Leavenworth  was 
lighted  as  though  for  some  function.  There  were  no 
curtains  at  the  windows,  and  even  had  there  been, 
the  shock  of  this  spectacle  which  went  on  before  our 
eyes  would  have  been  sufficient  to  set  aside  all  laws 


HEART'S  DESIRE  25 

and  conventions.  With  hands  in  pockets  we  stood 
and  gazed  blankly  in  at  the  open  window.  There 
was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night.  The  narrow  Mexi- 
can fireplace  again  held  abundance  of  snapping, 
sparkling,  crooked  pifion  wood.  The  table  was 
spread.  At  its  head  sat  the  next  postmaster;  near 
him  a  lately  sorrowful  but  now  smiling  lady,  his  wife, 
the  woman  from  Kansas.  The  elder  daughter  was 
busy  at  the  fire.  At  the  right  of  the  man  from 
Leavenworth  sat  none  less  than  Curly,  the  same 
whose  cow  pony,  with  bridle  thrown  down  over  its 
head,  now  stood  nodding  in  the  bright  flood  of  the 
moonlight  of  Heart's  Desire.  At  the  side  of  Curly 
was  the  Littlest  Girl  from  Kansas,  and  she  was  look- 
ing into  his  eyes. 

It  was  thus  that  the  social  compact  was  first  set  on 
in  the  valley  of  Heart's  Desire. 

A  vast  steaming  fragrance  arose  from  the  bowl 
which  stood  at  the  head  of  the  table.  In  the  home  of 
the  girl  from  Kansas  there  was  light,  warmth,  com- 
fort, joy.    It  was  Christmas,  after  all. 

"By  the  great  jumpin'  Jehossophat ! "  said  Tom 
Osby,  "them's  our  oysters!" 

"And  to  think,"  mused  Dan  Anderson,  softly,  ^s 
we  turned  away,  —  "we  fried  ours!" 


CHAPTER  III 

TRANSGRESSION  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Beginning  the  Cause  C6lebre  which  arose  from  Curly' 's 
killing  the  Pig  of  the  Man  from  Kansas 

A  great  many  abdomens  have  been  injured  in  the 
pastime  known  as  the  "double  roll."  Especially  has 
this  been  the  case  with  persons  not  native  to  the  land 
of  Heart's  Desire  or  the  equivalent  thereof.  Even 
those  born  to  the  manner,  and  possessed  of  the 
freedom  of  a  vast  landscape  whose  every  particular 
was  devoted  to  the  behoof  of  any  man  seized  with  a 
purpose  of  attaining  speed  and  efficiency  with  fire- 
arms, did  not  always  reach  that  smoothness  and  pre- 
cision in  the  execution  of  this  personal  manoeuvre 
which  alone  could  render  it  safe  to  themselves  or 
impressive  to  the  beholder.  The  owner  of  this  accom- 
plishment was  never  apt  to  find  himself  much  crowded 
with  company,  in  the  way  either  of  participants  or 
spectators.  Yet  the  art  was  a  simple  and  harmless 
one,  pertaining  more  especially  to  youth,  enthusiasm, 
and  the  fresh  air  of  high  altitudes,  which  did  ever 
evoke  saltpetreish  manifestations. 

The  evolution  of  the  "double  roll"  is  executed  by 
taking  a  six-shooter  —  let  us  hope  not  one  of  those 

26 


HEART'S  DESIRE  27 

pitiful  toys  of  the  East  —  upon  each  forefinger,  each 
weapon  so  hanging  balanced  on  the  trigger-guard  and 
the  trigger  itself  that  it  shall  be  ready  to  turn  about 
the  finger  as  upon  a  pivot,  and  shall  be  ready  for 
instant  discharge,  the  thumb  cocking  the  weapon  as 
it  turns  ;  yet  so  that  it  shall  none  the  less  be  dis- 
charged only  when  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon  is 
pointed  away  from  the  operator's  person  and  not 
toward  it. 

It  is  best  for  the  ambitious  to  begin  this  little  sport 
with  an  empty  weapon.  Thus  one  will  readily 
observe  that  the  click  of  the  hammer  is  all  too  often 
heard  before  the  whirl  of  the  gun  is  fairly  under  way, 
and  while  the  muzzle  is  pointed  midway  of  the  oper- 
ator's person;  the  weight  of  the  heavy  gun  being 
commonly  sufficient  to  pull  back  the  trigger  and  so 
discharge  the  piece.  When  the  ambitious  soul  has 
learned  to  do  this  "roll"  with  one  empty  gun,  he  may 
try  it  with  two  empty  guns.  If  he  finds  it  possible 
thus  to  content  himself,  it  will  perhaps  be  all  the  better 
for  him.  To  stand  upright,  with  a  gun  in  each  hand, 
even  an  empty  gun,  and  so  revolve  the  same  while 
its  own  cylinder  is  revolving,  is  not  wholly  easy, 
though  when  one  has  finally  gotten  both  hemispheres 
of  his  brain  into  accord  with  his  forefingers,  he  will 
ever  thereafter  be  able  to  understand  fully  the  double 
revolution  of  the  earth  upon  its  axis  and  around  the 
sun;  provided  always  that  he  is  able  to  perform  the 
"double  roll"  without  hitch  or  break,  pulling  right 


28  HEART'S  DESIRE 

and  left  forefinger  alternately  and  rapidly  until  he  has 
heard  what  in  his  tentative  case  must  be  a  series  of 
six  double  clicks. 

This  performance  with  an  empty  six-shooter  is  but 
a  pale  and  spiritless  form  of  the  sport  of  high  alti- 
tudes. Instead  there  should  be  twelve  reports,  so 
closely  sequent  as  to  sound  as  one  string  of  explo- 
sion. Thus  executed  the  game  is  a  fine  one,  the  finer 
for  being  risky.  So  to  stand  erect,  with  an  eight- 
inch  Colt  in  either  hand,  each  arm  at  full  length,  one 
gun  shooting  joyously  down  the  centre  of  the  street 
of  your  chosen  town,  the  other  shooting  as  cheerfully 
up  the  same  street  —  to  do  this  actually,  with  bark 
of  powder  and  attending  puffs  of  dust  cut  —  this  is 
indeed  delightsome  when  the  heart  is  full  of  red  blood, 
and  the  chest  swells  with  charged  wine  o'  life,  and 
the  eyes  gleam  and  the  muscles  harden  for  very  search 
of  some  endeavor  immediate  and  difficult !  It  is  the 
more  delightsome  when  this  moment  of  man-frenzy 
finds  one  in  such  a  town  as  was  this  of  Heart's  De- 
sire; where,  indeed,  a  man  could  do  precisely  as  he 
pleased;  where  it  was  not  accounted  wrong  or  ill- 
balanced  to  claim  the  whole  street  for  a  half  moment 
or  so  of  a  cloudless  morning,  and  so  to  ease  one's  self 
of  the  pressure  of  the  joy  of  living.  To  own  this  little 
world,  to  live  free  of  touch  or  taint  of  control  or  guid- 
ance, to  be  brother  to  the  mountains,  cousin  of  the 
free  sky  —  to  live  in  Heart's  Desire  and  be  a  man  — 
ah!  would  that  were  possible  for  all  of  us  to-day! 


HEART'S  DESIRE  29 

Were  it  so,  then  assuredly  we  should  exult  and  take 
unto  ourselves  all  the  privileges  of  the  domain,  per- 
haps even  to  the  extent  of  attempting  the  "double 
roll." 

Curly's  wooing  of  the  Littlest  Girl,  sped  apace  by 
his  unrighteous  appropriation  of  our  can  of  oysters, 
in  which  he  had  held  no  fee  simple,  but  only  an  indi- 
vidual and  indeterminate  interest,  had  prospered 
beyond  all  just  deserts  of  a  red-headed  cow  puncher 
with  a  salary  of  forty-five  dollars  a  month.  He  had 
already,  less  than  two  months  after  the  installation 
of  the  new  postmaster,  announced  to  his  friends  his 
forthcoming  nuptials,  and  ever  since  the  setting  of 
the  happy  date  had  comported  himself  with  an  air 
of  ownership  of  the  town  and  a  mere  tolerance  of  its 
inhabitants. 

Perhaps,  if  we  were  each  and  every  one  of  us  a 
prospective  bridegroom,  as  was  Curly  upon  this 
morning  in  question,  we  should  be  all  the  more 
persuaded  to  execute  the  "double  roll"  in  mid-street, 
as  proof  to  the  public  that  all  was  well.  Perhaps, 
also,  if  there  should  thus  appear  to  any  of  us,  adown 
street  upon  either  hand,  an  object  moving  slowly, 
pausing,  resuming  again  across  the  line  of  gun-vision 
its  slow  advance  —  ah !  tell  me,  if  that  slow-moving 
object  crossing  the  bridegroom's  joyous  aim  were  a  pig, 
—  a  grunting,  fat,  conceited  pig,  —  arrogating  to  itself 
much  of  that  street  wherefrom  one's  fellow-citizens 
had  for  a  moment  of  grave  courtesy  withdrawn  — 


30  HEART'S  DESIRE 

tell  me,  if  you  were  a  bridegroom,  soon  to  be  happy, 
and  if  you  could  do  the  ""double  roll"  with  loaded 
guns  and  no  danger  to  your  bowels,  and  if  while  so 
engaged  you  should  see  within  easy  range  this  black, 
sleek  pig,  with  its  tail  curled  tightly,  egotistically, 
contemptuously,  over  its  back,  what,  as  a  man,  would 
you  do  ?  What,  as  a  man,  could  you  do  in  a  case  like 
that,  in  a  land  where  there  was  no  law,  where  never 
a  court  had  sat,  where  never  such  a  thing  as  a  case  at 
law  had  been  known?  Consider,  what  would  be  the 
abstract  right  and  justice  of  this  matter,  repeating 
that  you  were  a  bridegroom  and  twenty-three,  and 
that  the  air  was  molten  wine  and  honey  mingled, 
and  that  this  pig  —  but  then,  the  matter  is  absurd ! 
There  is  but  one  answer.  It  was  right  —  indeed,  it 
was  inevitable  —  that  Curly  should  shoot  the  pig ; 
because  in  the  first  place  it  had  intruded  upon  his 
pastime,  and  because  in  the  second  place  he  felt 
like  it. 

And  yet  over  this  act,  this  simple,  inevitable  act 
of  justice,  arose  the  first  law  case  ever  known  in 
Heart's  Desire,  a  cause  which  shook  that  community 
to  the  centre  of  its  being,  and  for  a  time  threatened 
its  very  continuance.  Ah,  well!  perhaps  the  time 
had  come.  Perhaps  the  sun  was  now  to  set  over  all 
the  valleys  of  Heart's  Desire.  Perhaps  this  was  the 
beginning  of  the  end.  The  law,  they  say,  must  have 
its  course.    It  had  its  course  in  Heart's  Desire. 

But  not  without  protest,   not  without  struggle. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  31 

There  were  two  factions  from  the  start.  Strange  to 
say,  that  most  bitterly  opposed  to  Curly  was  headed 
by  no  less  a  person  than  his  own  intended  father-in- 
law,  the  man  from  Leavenworth.  It  was  his  pig. 
The  rest  of  us  had  lived  at  Heart's  Desire  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  but  there  had  hitherto  seemed  no 
need  for  law.  Order  we  already  had  in  so  far  as  order 
is  really  needed;  though  the  importance  of  order,  or 
indeed  the  importance  of  law,  is  a  matter  very  much 
overrated.  No  man  at  Heart's  Desire  ever  dreamed 
of  locking  his  door.  His  horse  might  doze  saddled 
in  the  street  if  he  liked.  No  man  spoke  in  rudeness 
or  coarseness  to  his  neighbor,  as  do  men  in  the  cities 
where  they  have  law.  No  man  did  injustice  to  his 
neighbor,  for  fair  play  and  an  even  chance  were  gods 
in  the  eyes  of  all,  eikons  above  each  pinon-burning 
hearth  in  all  that  valley  of  content.  The  speech  of 
man  was  grave  and  gentle,  the  movements  of  man 
were  easy  and  unhurried ;  neither  did  any  man  work 
by  rule,  or  by  clock,  or  by  order.  There  was  no  such 
thing  as  want  or  hunger;  for  did  temporary  poverty 
encompass  one,  was  there  not  always  the  house  of 
Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  and  could  not  one  there  hang 
up  his  gun  behind  the  door  and  so  obtain  credit  for 
an  indefinite  length  of  time,  entitling  him  to  eat  at 
table  witn  his  peers?  Had  there  been  such  a  thing 
as  families  in  Heart's  Desire,  be  sure  such  a  thing  as 
a  woman  or  child  engaged  in  any  work  had  been 
utterly  unknown.    It  was  a  land  of  men,  big,  grave, 


32  HEART'S  DESIRE 

sufficient  men,  each  with  a  gun  upon  his  hip,  and 
sometimes  two,  guaranty  of  peace  and  calm  and  con- 
tent. And  any  man  who  has  ever  lived  in  a  Land 
Before  the  Law  knows  that  this  is  the  only  fit  way 
of  life.  Alas!  that  this  scheme,  this  great,  happy 
simple,  perfect  scheme  of  society  should  be  subverted. 
And,  be  it  remembered,  this  was  by  reason  of  nothing 
more  than  a  pig,  an  artless,  lissom  pig,  it  is  true; 
an  infrequent,  somewhat  prized,  a  little  petted  and 
perhaps  spoiled  pig,  it  is  true;  yet,  after  all,  no  fit 
cause  of  elemental  strife. 

But  now  came  this  man  from  Leavenworth,  fresh 
from  litigious  soil,  bearing  with  him  in  his  faded  blue 
army  overcoat  germs  of  civilization,  seeds  of  discon- 
tent. He  wailed  aloud  that  the  pride  of  the  commu- 
nity, meaning  this  pig,  which  he  had  brought  solitary 
in  a  box  at  the  tail  of  the  wagon  when  he  moved  in, 
was  now  departed;  that  there  was  naught  left  to 
distinguish  this  community  from  any  other  camp  in 
the  mountains ;  that  the  pig  had  been  the  light  of  his 
home,  the  apple  of  his  eye,  the  pride  of  the  commu- 
nity; that  he  had  entertained  large  designs  in  con- 
nection with  this  pig  the  following  fall ;  that  its  taking 
off  was  a  shame,  an  outrage,  a  disgrace,  an  act  utterly 
illegal,  and  one  for  which  any  man  in  Kansas  would 
promptly  have  had  the  law  of  his  neighbor. 

Hitherto  the  "  double  roll,"  even  in  connection  with 
a  curly-tailed  black  pig,  had  not  been  considered 
actionable  in  Heart's  Desire ;  but  the  outcry  made  by 


HEART'S  DESIRE  33 

this  man  from  Leavenworth,  now  the  postmaster  of 
the  town  and  in  some  measure  a  leader  in  the  meet- 
ings of  the  population,  began  to  attract  attention. 
It  began  to  play  upon  the  nicely  attuned  instrument 
of  Public  Spirit.  What,  indeed,  asked  the  community 
gravely,  was  to  separate  Heart's  Desire  in  the  eye 
of  Eastern  Capital,  from  any  other  camp  in  the  far 
Southwest  ?  Once  the  town  could  claim  a  pig,  which 
no  other  camp  of  that  district  could  do.  Now  it  could 
do  so  no  more  forever.  This  began  to  put  a  differ- 
ent look  upon  the  face  of  things. 

"It  seems  like  the  ole  man  took  it  some  hard," 
said  Curly,  lighting  a  cigarrillo.  "He  don't  seem  to 
remember  that  I  was  due  to  be  a  member  of  the 
family  right  soon,  same  as  the  pig.  I  don't  like  to 
think  I'm  shy  when  it  comes  to  comparison  with  a 
shoat.  Gimme  time,  and  I  reckon  I  could  take  the 
place  of  the  pig  in  my  new  dad's  affections.  But  I 
say  deliberate  that  pigs  has  got  no  call  to  be  in  a  cow 
country,  not  none,  unless  salted.  Say,  can't  we  salt 
this  one?  Then,  who's  the  worse  off  for  it?  What's 
all  this  furse  about,  anyway?" 

"That's  right,  Curly,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  who 
stood  with  hands  in  pockets  and  pipe  in  mouth,  lean- 
ing against  the  door-jamb  in  front  of  his  "  law  office." 
"You  have  enunciated  a  great  principle  of  law  in  that 
statement.  They  have  got  to  prove  damages.  More- 
over, you  have  got  a  counter-claim.  It's  laceratin' 
to  be  compared  to  a  shoat.'' 


34  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"And  me  just  go-in'  to  be  married/ '  said  Curly. 

"Sure,  it  ain't  right." 

"Anderson,"  said  I,  moving  up  to  the  group,  "did 
you  ever  hear  of  such  things  as  champerty  and  main- 
tenance? The  first  thing  you  know,  you'll  get  dis- 
barred for  stirring  up  litigation." 

"Keep  away  from  my  client,"  said  Dan  Anderson, 
grinning.  "You're  jealous  of  my  professional  suc- 
cess, that's  all.  Neither  of  us  has  had  a  case  yet,  and 
now  that  it  looks  like  I  was  going  to  get  one,  you're 
jealous.  Do  you  want  to  pass  up  the  first  lawsuit 
ever  held  in  the  county?  Come  now,  I'm  bored  to 
death.    Let's  have  some  fun." 

Curly  began  to  shift  uneasily  on  his  feet.  His  hat 
went  still  farther  back  on  his  red,  kinky  curls. 

"Law!"  said  he.  "Law!  You  don't  mean — " 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Curly  grew  pale.  "Why, 
I'll  clean  out  the  hull  bunch!"  he  said,  the  red  surg- 
ing back  in  his  face  and  his  hand  instinctively  going 
to  his  gun. 

"No,  you  won't,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "Do  you 
want  to  bust  up  your  marriage  with  the  girl  from 
Kansas?" 

"Sho'!"  said  Curly,  and  fell  thoughtful.  "This 
looks  bad,"  said  he;  "mighty  bad."  He  sat  down 
and  began  to  think.  I  do  not  doubt  that  Dan 
Anderson  at  that  moment  was  a  disgrace  to  his  pro- 
fession, though  later  he  honored  it.    He  winked  at  me. 

"Don't  you  tamper  with  my  client,"  said  he;  and 


HEART'S  DESIRE  35 

then  resumed  to  Curly:  "What  you  need  is  a  lawyer. 
You've  got  to  have  legal  advice.  It  happens  that  the 
full  bar  of  Heart's  Desire  is  now  present  talking  to 
you.  Take  your  pick.  I've  got  a  mighty  good  idea 
which  is  the  best  lawyer  of  this  bar,  but  I  wouldn't 
tell  you  for  the  world  that  I'm  the  one.  Take  your 
pick.  Here's  the  whole  legal  works  of  the  town,  us 
two.    Try  the  Learned  Counsel  on  my  right." 

"Law!"  said  Curly.  "Why  —  law  —  lawyers! 
Then  who  —  say,  now,  I'll  pay  for  the  pig.  I  didn't 
mean  nothing,  no  way." 

Then  Dan  Anderson  rose  to  certain  heights.  "You 
can't  settle  it  that  way,"  said  he.  "That's  too  easy. 
Oh,  you  can  pay  for  the  pig  easy  enough ;  but  how 
about  the  majesty  of  the  law?  Where  is  the  peace 
and  dignity  of  the  commonwealth  to  come  in?  This 
is  criminal.    Nope,  you  choose.    You  need  a  lawyer." 

"You  —  you-all  got  me  locoed/'  said  Curly,  nerv- 
ously. "Law!  Why,  I  don't  want  no  law.  There 
ain't  never  been  no  co'te  set  here.  Down  to  the 
county-seat,  over  to  Lincoln,  that's  all  right;  but 
here  —  why,  they  don't  want  no  law  here.  Besides, 
I  can't  choose  between  you  two  fellers.  I  like  you 
both.  You're  both  white  men.  Ef  you  could  rope 
and  shoot  better,  I  could  git  either  one  of  you  a  job 
cowpunchin'  any  day,  and  that's  a  heap  better'n 
practisin'  law.  I  couldn't  make  no  choice  between 
you  fellers.  Say,  I'll  have  you  both"  This  with  a 
sudden  illumination  of  countenance. 


36  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"  That  would  be  unconstitutional/ '  said  Dan 
Anderson,  solemnly,  "and  against  public  policy  as 
well.  That  would  be  cornering  the  whole  legal 
supply  of  the  community,  Curly,  and  it  wouldn't 
leave  anybody  for  the  prosecution." 

"ShoM"  said  Curly.  Then  suddenly  he  added: 
11  There's  the  old  man.  Don't  you  never  doubt  he'd 
prosecute  joyful.  And  there  never  was  a  man  from 
Kansas  didn't  know  some  law.  Why,  onct,  down 
on  the  Brazos  — " 

"He  can't  act  as  attorney-at-law,"  said  Anderson. 
"He's  never  been  admitted  to  the  bar.  Say,  you 
flip  a  dollar." 

The  thought  of  chance-taking  appealed  to  Curly. 
He  flipped  the  dollar. 

"Heads,  me,"  said  Dan  Anderson;  and  so  it  fell. 
That  young  man  smiled  blithely.  "We'll  skin  'em, 
Curly,"  said  he.  "You'll  be  as  free  as  air  in  less'n  a 
week." 

"Now,"  said  Dan  Anderson  to  me,  "it's  all  right 
thus  far.  Next  we  have  got  to  get  a  Justice  of 
the  Peace,  and  then  we've  got  to  get  the  prisoner 
arrested." 

"'Rested!"  said  Curly.     "Who?    Me?" 

"Of  course,"  drawled  his  newly  constituted  attor- 
ney. "Didn't  you  kill  the  pig?  You  just  hang 
around  for  a  little,  for  when  we  need  you,  we  don't 
want  to  have  to  hunt  all  over  the  country." 

"All  right,"  said  Curly,  dubiously. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  37 

"Where's  Blackman?"  said  Dan  Anderson,  again 
addressing  me.  "We  have  got  to  have  a  judge,  or 
we  can't  have  any  trial.  Come  on  and  let's  hunt  him 
up.  Curly,  don't  you  run  away,  mind.  You  trust 
to  me,  and  I'll  get  you  clear,  and  get  you  married, 
both." 

"All  right,"  said  Curly  again.  "I'll  just  sornter 
down  to  the  Lone  Star,  and  when  you-all  want  me 
I'll  be  in  there,  either  takin'  a  drink  or  playin'  a  few 
kyards." 

"Let's  get  Blackman  now,"  said  Curly's  lawyer. 
Blackman  was  the  duly  constituted  Justice  of  the 
Peace  in  and  for  Heart's  Desire.  Nobody  knew  pre- 
cisely when  or  how  he  had  been  elected,  and  perhaps 
indeed  he  never  was  elected  at  all.  There  must  be 
a  beginning  for  all  things.  The  one  thing  certain  as 
to  Blackman  was  that  he  had  once  been  a  Justice  of 
the  Peace  back  in  Kansas,  which  fact  he  had  not  been 
slow  to  announce  upon  his  arrival  in  Heart's  Desire. 
Perhaps  from  this  arose  the  local  custom  of  calling 
him  Judge,  and  perhaps  from  his  wearing  the  latter 
title  arose  the  supposition  that  he  really  was  a  judge. 
The  records  are  quite  silent  as  to  the  origin  of  his 
tenure  of  office.  The  office  itself,  as  has  been  inti- 
mated, had  hitherto  been  one  purely  without  care. 
At  every  little  shooting  scrape  or  other  playfulness  of 
the  male  population  Blackman,  Justice  of  the  Peace, 
became  inflated  with  importance  and  looked  mon- 
strous grave.    But  nothing  ever  came  of  these  little 


38  HEART'S  DESIRE 

alarms,  so  that  gradually  the  inflations  grew  less  and 
less  extensive.  They  might  perhaps  have  ceased  alto- 
gether had  it  not  been  for  this  malignant  zeal  of  Dan 
Anderson,  formerly  of  Princeton,  and  now  come,  hit 
or  miss,  to  grow  up  with  the  country. 

Blackman  was  ever  ready  enough  for  a  lawsuit, 
forsooth  pined  for  one.  Yet  what  could  he  do  ?  He 
could  not  go  forth  and  with  his  own  hands  arrest 
chance  persons  and  hale  them  before  his  own  court 
for  trial.  The  sheriff,  when  he  was  in  town,  simply 
laughed  at  him,  and  told  his  deputies  not  to  mix  up 
with  anything  except  circuit-court  matters,  murders, 
and  more  especially  horse  stealings.  Constable  there 
was  none;  and  policeman  —  it  is  to  wonder  just  a 
trifle  what  would  have  happened  to  any  such  thing 
as  a  policeman  or  town  marshal  in  the  valley  of 
Heart's  Desire !  In  short,  there  was  neither  judicial 
nor  executive  arm  of  the  law  in  action.  One  may, 
therefore,  realize  the  hindrances  which  Dan  Anderson 
met  in  getting  up  his  lawsuit.  Yet  he  went  forward 
in  the  attempt  patiently,  driven  simply  by  ennui.  He 
did  not  dream  that  he  was  doing  something  epochal. 

Blackman,  Justice  of  the  Peace,  was  sitting  in  the 
office  of  the  Golden  Age  when  we  found  him,  reading 
the  exchanges  and  offering  gratuitous  advice  to  the 
editor.  He  was  a  shortish  man,  thick  in  body,  with 
sparse  hair  and  hay-colored,  ragged  mustache.  His 
face  was  florid,  his  pale  eyes  protruded.  He  was  a 
wise-looking  man,  excellently  well  suited  in  appear- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  39 

ance  for  the  office  which  he  filled.  We  explained  to 
him  our  errand.  Gradually,  as  the  sense  of  his  own 
new  importance  dawned  upon  him,  he  began  to  swell, 
apparently  until  he  assumed  a  bulk  thrice  that  which 
he  formerly  possessed.  His  spine  straightened  rig- 
idly ;  a  solemn  light  came  into  his  eye ;  a  cough  that 
fairly  choked  with  wisdom  echoed  from  his  throat. 
It  was  a  great  day  for  Blackman,  J.  P. 

"Do  I  know  this  man,  this  cow  puncher?  "  said  he. 
"  Of  course  I  know  him,  damn  him,  and  I  know  what 
he  done,  too.  Such  a  high-handed  act  never  ought 
to  be  tolerated,  sir !  Destroyin'  property  —  why, 
a-destroyin'  of  life  and  property,  for  he  killed  the  pig 
—  and  this  new  family  of  citizens  dependin'  in  part 
on  the  pig  fer  their  sustenances  this  comin'  season; 
to  say  nothin'  of  his  nigh  shootin'  me  up  as  I  was 
crossin'  the  street  from  the  post-office!  Try  him! 
Why,  of  course  we  ought  to  try  him.  What  show 
have  we  got  if  we  go  on  this  lawless  way?  What 
injucement  can  we  offer  Eastern  Capital  to  settle  in 
our  midst  if,  instead  of  bein'  quiet  and  law-abidin', 
we  go  on  a-rarin'  and  a-pitchin'  and  a-runnin'  wide 
open,  every  man  for  hisself  ?  What  are  we  here  for, 
you,  and  you,  and  me,  if  it  ain't  to  set  in  trile  over 
such  britches  of  the  peace?" 

"You're  in,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  succinctly.  "Get 
over  to  your  'dobe.  We'll  hold  this  trial  right  away. 
I  reckon  all  the  boys'll  know  about  it  by  this  time. 
I'll  go  over  and  get  the  prisoner.    But,  hold  on !    He 


40  HEART'S  DESIRE 

ain't  arrested  yet.  Who'll  serve  the  warrant?  Ben 
Stillson  (the  sheriff)  is  down  on  the  Hondo,  and  his 
deputy,  Poe,  is  out  of  town.  There  ain't  a  soul  here 
to  serve  a  paper.  Looks  like  the  court  was  some 
rusty,  don't  it?" 

" Warrant!"  said  the  Justice,  "warrant!  You 
don't  need  no  warrant.  Wasn't  he  seen  a-doin'  the 
act?" 

"Oh,  but  it  wasn't  a  real  first-class  felony,"  de- 
murred Dan,  with  some  shade  of  conscience  left. 

"Well,  I'll  arrest  him  myself,"  said  the  Justice. 
"  He's  got  to  be  brought  to  trile." 

"Well,  now,"  I  ventured  to  suggest,  "that  doesn't 
look  exactly  right,  either,  since  you  are  to  try  the 
case,  Judge.    It's  legal,  but  it  isn't  etiquette." 

Blackman  scratched  his  head.  "Maybe  that's  so," 
said  he.  Then  turning  to  me,  "S'pose  you  arrest 
him." 

"He  can't,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "He's  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  —  only  other  lawyer  in  town.  It 
wouldn't  look  right  for  either  the  judge  or  prosecutor 
to  make  the  arrest.  Curly  might  not  like  it."  This 
all  seemed  true  enough,  and  we  fell  into  a  quandary. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Dan  Anderson  at  length.  "I'd 
better  arrest  him  myself.  I'm  going  to  defend  him, 
so  it  would  look  more  regular  for  me  to  bring  him  in. 
Looks  like  he  wasn't  afraid  of  the  verdict.  We  ain't, 
either.  I  want  you  to  remember,  Judge,  if  you  don't 
clear  him — " 


HEART'S  DESIRE  41 

Here  counsel  for  the  Territory  interrupted,  feeling 
that  the  majesty  of  the  law  was  not  fully  observed  by 
threatening  the  trial  judge  in  advance. 

"Well,  come  along,  then,"  said  Anderson.  "Let 
that  part  of  it  go.  Come  over  and  let's  get  out  the 
warrant." 

I  was  not  with  them  when  the  warrant  was  issued, 
though  that  part  of  the  proceeding  might  naturally 
have  seemed  rather  the  dut}'  of  the  prosecution  than 
of  the  defence.  Dan  Anderson  afterward  told  me 
that  Blackman  could  not  find  his  law  book  (he  had 
only  one,  a  copy  of  the  statutes  of  Kansas)  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  couldn't  find  the  proper  place  in  it. 
Legal  blanks  did  not  exist  in  Heart's  Desire,  and  all 
legal  forms  had  departed  from  Blackman's  mind  in 
this  time  of  excitement.  Dan  Anderson  himself  drew 
the  warrant.  As  it  was  read  later  by  himself  to  Curly 
at  the  Lone  Star,  it  did  not  lack  a  certain  charm.  It 
began  with  "Greeting,"  and  ended  with,  "Now,  there- 
fore, in  the  name  of  God  and  the  Continental  Con- 
gress." Anderson  did  not  crack  a  smile  in  reading 
it,  and  so  far  as  that  is  concerned,  the  warrant  worked 
as  well  as  any  and  better  than  some.  Curly,  because 
he  felt  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  his  friends,  made 
no  special  demurrer  to  the  terms  of  the  "  writ,"  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  Lone  Star  was  empty  and  Black- 
man's  adobe  was  packed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  LAW  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Continuing  the  Story  of  the  Pig  from  Kansas,  and  the 
Deep  Damnation  of  his  Taking  Off 

"Order!  order!  gentlemen !"  called  Blackman, 
Justice  of  the  Peace,  clearing  his  throat.  "This  hon- 
orable justice  court  is  now  in  session.  Gentlemen, 
what  is  your  pleasure  V 

He  was  a  little  confused,  but  he  meant  well.  It 
seemed  incumbent  upon  the  prosecutor  to  make  some 
sort  of  a  statement,  but  the  attorney  for  the  defence 
interposed.  He  moved  for  the  discharge  of  the  pris- 
oner on  the  ground  that  there  was  no  Territorial  law 
and  no  city  ordinance  violated;  he  pointed  out  that 
Heart's  Desire  was  not  a  city,  neither  a  town,  but  had 
never  been  organized,  established,  or  begun,  even  to 
the  extent  of  the  filing  of  a  town  site  plat;  he  there- 
fore denied  the  existence  of  any  municipal  law,  since 
there  had  never  been  any  municipality ;  he  intimated 
that  the  pig  had  perhaps  been  killed  accidentally,  or 
perhaps  in  self-defence ;  it  was  plain  that  the  prisoner 
was  wrongfully  restrained  of  his  liberty,  etc. 

The  ire  of  Blackman,  J.  P.,  at  all  this  was  some- 
thing to  behold.     He  *o  be  deprived  of  his  oppor- 

42 


HEART'S  DESIRE  43 

tunity  thus  lightly?  Hardly!  He  overruled  the 
objections  at  once,  and  rapped  loudly  for  order. 

"The  trile  will  go  on,"  said  he. 

"Then,  your  Honor,"  cried  Dan  Anderson,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  "then  I  shall  resort  to  the  ancient  bul- 
wark of  our  personal  liberties.  I  shall  sue  out  a  writ 
of  habeas  corpus,  and  take  this  prisoner  out  of  custody. 
I'll  sue  this  court  on  its  bond !  I'll  take  a  change  of 
venue!  We'll  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  set  this 
innocent  man  free  and  restore  him  to  the  bosom  of 
his  family!" 

This  speech  produced  a  great  effect  on  the  audience, 
as  murmurs  of  approbation  testified,  but  the  doughty 
Justice  of  the  Peace  was  not  so  easily  to  be  reckoned 
with.  He  pointed  out  that  there  was  no  officer  to 
serve  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus;  that  the  court  had 
given  no  bond  to  anybody  and  did  not  propose  to  do 
so;  that  there  was  no  other  court  to  which  to  apply 
for  a  change  of  "vendew,"  as  he  termed  it;  and  reit- 
erated once  more  that  the  "  trile  must  go  on."  The 
prosecution  was,  therefore,  once  more  called  upon  to 
state  the  case.  Again  the  attorney  for  the  defence 
protested,  a  foreshadowing  of  his  fighting  blood  red- 
dening his  face. 

"  I  call  for  a  jury,"  said  he.  "  Does  this  court 
suppose  we  are  going  to  leave  the  liberty  of  this  pris- 
oner in  the  hands  of  a  judge  openly  and  notoriously 
prejudiced  as  to  the  facts  of  this  case?  I  demand  a 
trial  by  a  jury  of  the  defendant's  peers." 


44  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Blackman  reddened,  but  was  game.  "Jury  goes," 
said  he.  "  Count  out  twelve  fellers  there,  beginnin' 
next  the  door." 

"Twelve!"  said  Dan  Anderson,  for  the  moment 
almost  losing  his  gravity.  "I  thought  this  court 
might  be  content  with  six  for  a  justice's  jury;  but 
realizing  the  importance  of  this  court,  we  are  willing 
to  agree  on  twelve." 

It  was  so  agreed.  The  jury  took  in  every  man  in 
the  little  room  but  three.  "They'll  do  for  a  veniry," 
said  Blackman,  J.  P.,  learnedly.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, one  can  perhaps  forgive  him  for  becoming  at 
times  a  trifle  mixed  as  to  the  legal  proceedings. 

At  least,  it  was  easy  to  agree  as  to  the  jury;  for 
obviously  the  population  of  the  place  was  fully  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  and  each  one 
had  freely  expressed  his  opinion  upon  the  one  side  or 
the  other.  There  seemed  to  be  no  reason  for  excus- 
ing any  juror  for  cause;  and  upon  the  other  hand, 
there  are  often  very  good  reasons  in  a  Land  Before 
the  Law  for  not  bringing  up  personal  matters  of  this 
kind.  Indeed,  the  trial  judge  settled  all  that.  He 
looked  over  the  twelve  good  men  and  true  thus  segre- 
gated, and  remarked  briefly:  "They're  his  peers,  all 
right.     The  trile  will  now  proceed." 

Whereupon  he  swore  them  solemnly  and  made  a 
record  in  his  fee  book,  to  the  later  consternation  of 
his  jurors.  "Ain't  this  court  a  notary,  too?"  said 
Blackman  later.     "And  ain't  a  notary  entitled  to  so 


HEART'S  DESIRE  45 

much  fee  for  administerm'  a  oath?  And  didn't  I 
administer  twelve  oaths?  "  There  was  small  answer 
to  this,  after  all.  The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire; 
and  Blackman  really  labored  in  this  case  as  in  all 
likelihood  few  justices  have  before  or  since. 

The  prosecuting  attorney,  who,  it  may  be  seen, 
held  his  office  much  as  did  the  justice  of  the  peace, 
by  the  doctrine  of  nemine  contradieente,  now  arose 
and  made  the  opening  statement.  There  was  some 
doubt  as  to  whether  this  was  a  civil  or  criminal  trial, 
but  there  was  no  doubt  whatever  of  the  existence  of 
a  trial  of  some  kind ;  neither  did  there  exist  any  doubt 
as  to  the  importance  of  this,  the  first  case  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  had  ever  tried,  outside  of  moot  courts. 
It  was  the  first  speech  he  had  ever  made  in  public, 
barring  college  "  orations,"  carefully  memorized,  and 
an  occasional  Fourth  of  July  speech,  which  might 
have  been  better  for  more  memorizing.  The  attorney 
for  the  prosecution,  however,  arose  to  the  occasion 
—  at  least  to  a  certain  extent.  He  spoke  in  low  and 
feeling  tones  of  the  struggling  little  community  of 
hardy  souls  thus  set  down  apart  in  the  far-off  moun- 
tain country  of  the  West;  of  its  trials,  its  hopes,  its 
ambitions,  of  its  expectations  of  becoming  a  moun- 
tain emporium  which  should  be  the  pride  of  the 
entire  Territory ;  he  went  on  to  mention  the  necessity 
for  law  and  order,  pointing  out  the  danger  to  the 
public  interests  of  the  community  which  must  lie  in 
a  general  reputation  for  ruffianism  and  lawlessness, 


46  HEART'S  DESIRE 

showing  how  Eastern  Capital  must  ever  be  timid  in 
visiting  a  town  of  such  reputation,  apart  from  invest- 
ing any  money  therein;  then,  changing  to  the  per- 
sonal phases  of  the  case,  he  spoke  of  the  absolute 
disregard  of  law  shown  in  the  act  charged,  mentioned 
the  red-handed  deed  of  this  lawless  and  dangerous 
person  who  had  thus  slain  a  pig,  no  less  the  pride  of 
the  community  than  the  idol  of  the  family  now 
bereft. 

At  this  point  the  jury  began  to  look  much  per- 
turbed and  solemn,  and  the  prisoner  very  red  and 
uneasy.  Prosecution  closed  by  offering  to  prove  all 
charges  by  competent  testimony.  This  latter  was  a 
dangerous  proposition  to  advance.  We  could  not 
well  ask  the  jurymen  to  testify,  and  of  the  "veniry," 
more  than  half  had  now  slipped  out  for  a  hurried  and 
excited  visit  to  the  Lone  Star,  there  to  advise  any 
possible  new  arrivals  of  what  was  going  on  at  Black- 
man's  adobe. 

Counsel  for  the  defence  arose  calmly  to  make  his 
opening  statement.  The  man  was  a  natural  trial 
lawyer.  It  was  simply  destiny  which  had  driven 
him  into  this  comedy,  as  destiny  had  driven  him  to 
Heart's  Desire.  It  was  not  comedy  now,  when 
Dan  Anderson  faced  judge  and  jury  here  in  Black- 
man's  adobe.  There  came  a  swift,  sudden  chill,  a 
gripping  as  of  iron,  a  darkening,  a  shrinking  of  the 
heart  of  each  man  in  that  little  room.  It  was  the 
coming  of  the  Law !    Ah !  Dan  Anderson,  you  ruined 


HEART'S  DESIRE  47 

our  little  paradise;  and  now  its  walls  are  down  for- 
ever, even  the  walls  of  our  city  of  content. 

Dan  Anderson  stood,  young,  tall  and  grave,  one 
hand  in  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  for  hardly  one  present 
wore  a  coat.  He  had  his  audience  with  him  before 
he  spoke.  When  he  began  he  caught  them  tighter 
to  his  cause,  using  not  merely  flowing  rhetoric  of 
speech,  but  the  close-knit,  advancing,  upbuilding 
argument  of  a  man  able  to  "  think  on  his  feet,"  — 
that  higher  sort  of  oratory  which  is  most  convinc- 
ing with  an  American  audience  or  an  American 
jury- 

The  statement  of  the  prosecution,  said  Dan  Ander- 
son, was  on  the  whole  a  fair  one,  and  no  discredit  to 
the  learned  brother  making  it.  None  would  more 
readily  than  himself  yield  acquiescence  to  the  state- 
ment that  law  and  order  must  prevail.  Without 
law  there  could  be  nothing  but  anarchy.  Under 
anarchy  progress  was  at  an  end.  The  individual 
must  give  up  something  of  his  rights  to  the  state  and 
the  community.  He  gave  up  a  certain  amount  of 
liberty,  but  received  therefor  an  equivalent  in  pro- 
tection. The  law  was,  therefore,  no  oppressor,  no 
monster,  no  usurer,  no  austere  being,  reaping  where 
it  had  not  sown.  The  law  was  nothing  to  be  drea<  led, 
nothing  to  be  feared;  and,  upon  the  other  hand,  it 
was  nothing  to  be  scorned. 

There  must  be  a  beginning,  continued  Dan  Ander- 
son.    There  must  be  something  established.     The 


48  HEART'S  DESIRE 

pound  measure  was  one  pound,  the  same  all  over 
the  country;  a  yard  measure  was  a  yard,  and  there 
was  no  guesswork  about  it.  It  was  the  same.  It 
was  a  unit.  So  with  the  law.  It  must  be  the  same, 
a  unit,  soulless,  unfeeling,  just,  unchangeable.  There 
was  nothing  indeterminate  in  it.  The  attitude  of  the 
law  was  thus  or  so,  and  not  otherwise.  It  was  not 
for  the  individual  to  pass  upon  any  of  these  ques- 
tions. It  was  for  the  courts  to  do  so,  the  approved 
machinery  set  aside,  under  the  social  compact,  for 
reducing  the  friction  of  the  wheels  of  society,  for 
securing  the  permanency  of  things  beneficial  to  that 
society,  and  for  removing  things  injurious  thereto. 
The  Law  itself  was  immutable.  The  courts  must 
administer  that  Law  without  malice,  without  feeling, 
impersonally,  justly. 

In  so  far  as  there  had  hitherto  been  no  Law  in 
Heart's  Desire,  went  on  the  speaker,  thus  far  had  our 
citizens  dwelt  in  barbarism,  had  indeed  been  unfit, 
under  the  very  definition  of  things,  to  bear  the  proud 
title  of  citizens  of  America,  the  justest,  the  most 
order-\oving,  as  well  as  the  bravest  and  the  most 
aggressive  nation  of  the  world.  The  time  had  now 
come  for  the  establishment  in  this  community  of 
the  Law,  that  beneficent  agency  of  progress,  that 
indispensable  factor,  that  inseparable  attendant 
upon  civilization.  Upon  the  sky  should  blaze  no 
more  the  red  riot  of  anarchy  and  barbarism.  Upon 
the  summit  of  the  noble  mountain  overtopping  this 


HEART'S  DESIRE  49 

happy  valley  there  should  sit  no  more  the  grinning 
figure  of  malevolent  and  unrestrained  vice,  but  the 
pure  form  of  the  blind  Goddess  of  Justice,  holding 
ever  aloft  over  this  happy  land  the  unfaltering  sword 
and  the  unwavering  scales,  so  that  all  might  look 
thereon,  the  rightdoers  in  smiling  security,  the  wrong- 
doing in  terror  of  their  deeds.    This  was  the  Law ! 

"And  now,  gentlemen  of  this  jury,"  said  Dan 
Anderson,  "I  stand  here  before  you  to  make  no 
excuses  for  this  Law,  to  palliate  nothing  in  the  way 
of  its  workings,  to  set  no  tentative  or  temporizing 
date  for  the  time  of  the  arrival  at  this  place  of  the 
image  of  the  Law.  I  say  to  you  here  to-day,  at  this 
hour,  that  image  now  sits  there  enthroned  above  us. 
The  Law  is  not  to  come  — it  has  come,  it  is  here ! " 

The  old  days  were,  therefore,  done,  he  went  on. 
Henceforth  we  must  observe  the  Law.  We  were 
here  now  with  the  intention  of  observing  that  Law. 
Should  we  therefore  fear  it?  Should  we  dread  the 
decision  of  this  distinguished  servant  of  the  Law? 
By  no  means.  To  show  that  the  Law  was  no 
dragon,  no  demon,  he  would  now,  in  the  very  face  of 
that  Law,  proceed  to  clear  this  innocent  man  of  that 
cloud  of  doubt  and  suspicion  which  for  a  brief  moment 
the  social  body  had  cast  upon  him.  He  would  show 
to  the  gentlemen  of  this  jury  and  to  this  honorable 
court  that  there  had  been  no  violation  of  the  Law 
through  any  act  of  this  honest,  open-faced,  intelligent 
young  gentleman,  long  known  among  them  as  an  up- 


50  HEART'S  DESIRE 

right  and  fair-dealing  man.  The  Law,  just  and  exact, 
would  now  protect  this  prisoner.  The  Law  was  no 
matter  of  haphazard.  The  prosecution  must  show 
that  some  specific  article  of  the  Law  had  been  violated. 

"Now,"  continued  Dan  Anderson,  casting  an  eye 
about  him  as  calmly  as  could  have  done  any  old  trial 
lawyer  examining  the  condition  of  his  jury,  "what 
are  the  charges  made  by  the  Territory?  The  prose- 
cution specifies  no  section  or  paragraph  of  the  statutes 
of  this  Territory  holding  it  unlawful  to  shoot  any 
dangerous  wild  beast  at  large  in  this  community. 
But  we  do  not  admit  that  this  prisoner  shot  any- 
thing, or  shot  at  anything  whatever.  We  shall 
prove  that  at  the  time  mentioned  he  was  engaged  in 
a  simple,  harmless,  and  useful  pastime,  a  pastime 
laudable  of  itself,  since  it  tends  to  make  the  partici- 
pant therein  a  better  and  more  useful  citizen.  There 
is  no  Territorial  law  forbidding  any  act  which  he  is 
here  charged  with  committing.  Neither  has  the 
body  social  in  this  thriving  community  placed  upon 
its  records  any  local  law,  any  indication  that  a  man 
may  not,  without  let  or  hindrance,  do  any  act  such 
as  those  charged  vaguely  against  this  good  young 
man,  who  has  only  availed  himself  of  his  right  under 
the  Constitution  to  bear  arms,  to  assemble  in  public, 
and  to  engage  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness." 

The  prosecution,  he  said,  had  introduced  reference 
to  a  certain  pig,  alleging  that  it  was  slain  by  the  act 
of  the  prisoner.    He  would  not  admit  that  there  had 


HEART'S  DESIRE  51 

been  any  pig,  since  no  corpus  delicti  was  shown ;  but 
in  any  event  this  was  no  civil  suit  now  in  progress. 
We  were  not  here  to  assess  value  upon  a  supposititious 
pig,  injured  in  a  supposititious  manner,  and  not  repre- 
sented here  of  counsel.  No  law  had  been  violated. 
Why,  then,  his  client  had  been  thus  ruthlessly  dragged 
into  court,  to  his  great  personal  chagrin,  his  loss  of 
time,  his  mental  suffering,  the  attorney  for  defence 
could  not  say.  It  was  injustice  of  a  monstrous  sort ! 
Prosecution  might  well  feel  relieved  if  no  retaliatory 
action  were  later  taken  against  them  for  false  im- 
prisonment. This  innocent  young  man  must  at  once 
be  discharged  from  custody. 

When  Dan  Anderson  sat  down  there  was  not  a 
man  in  the  jury  who  was  not  bathed  in  perspiration. 
Abstruse  thought  was  hard  at  work.  Blackman, 
J.  P.,  perspiring  no  less  than  any  member  of  the  jury, 
drew  himself  up,  but  he  was  troubled. 

"Evidence  f'r  the  State,"  the  Judge  finally  man- 
aged to  stammer,  turning  to  the  attorney  for  the 
prosecution. 

But  it  never  came  so  far  along  as  that.  There  was 
a  sound  of  many  footsteps;  voices  came  murmuring, 
growmg  louder.  The  door  was  pushed  open  from 
without,  and  in  came  much  of  the  remaining  popu- 
lation of  Heart's  Desire,  so  far  as  it  could  gain  room. 
The  man  from  Leavenworth  was  there,  his  whiskers 
wagging  unintelligibly.  McKinney  was  there,  and 
Do z  Tomlinson  and  Tom  Osby,  and  everybody  else; 


52  HEART'S  DESIRE 

and,  pushing  through  the  crowd,  there  came  the 
Littlest  Girl  from  Kansas,  her  apron  awry,  her  hair 
blown,  her  face  flushed,  her  eyes  moist  with  tears. 

"Curly !"  cried  she  as  at  last  her  eyes  caught  sight 
of  him.  "Come  right  on  out  of  here,  this  minute! 
Come  along!" 

What  would  you  have?  The  Law  is  the  Law; 
but  there  are  such  things  as  supreme  courts.  It 
was  useless  for  Blackman,  J.  P.,  to  rap  and  call  for 
order.  It  had  probably  been  useless  for  any  man 
to  undertake  to  stop  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  thus 
adjured.  At  any  rate  he  arose  and  said  politely  to 
the  jurors,  "Fellers,  I  got  to  go"  — and  so  went, 
no  man  raising  hand  to  restrain  him. 

As  to  Dan  Anderson,  he  himself  admitted  his  wish 
that  the  case  had  gone  on.  "I  wanted  to  cross- 
examine,"  said  he. 

That  night,  over  by  the  arroyo,  we  met  Curly  and 
the  Littlest  Girl  walking  in  the  moonlight.  Curly 
was  quiet.  The  Littlest  Girl  was  tremulous,  content. 
Curly,  pausing  as  we  approached,  mumbled  some 
shamefaced  thanks. 

"Curly,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  his  voice  queer, 
"I  didn't  do  it  for  pay.  I  did  it  — I  don't  know 
why  —  " 

A  new  mood  was  upon  him.  A  lassitude  as  of 
remorse  appeared  to  relax  him,  body  and  mind. 
An  hour  later  he  and  I  sat  in  the  glorious  flood  of 
the  light  of  the  moon  of  Heart's  Desire,  and  we  fell 


HEART'S  DESIRE  53 

silent,  as  was  the  way  of  men  in  that  place.  At 
length  Dan  Anderson  turned  his  face  to  the  top  of 
old  Carrizo,  the  restful,  the  impassive.  He  gazed 
long  without  speaking,  as  though  he  plainly  saw 
something  there  at  the  mountain  top. 

"Listen,"  he  whispered  to  me,  a  moment  later, 
and  his  eyes  did  not  quite  keep  back  the  tears.  "  She's 
there  —  the  Goddess.  The  Law  has  come  to  Heart's 
Desire.  May  God  forgive  me!  Why  could  we  not 
have  stayed  content?" 

But  little  did  Dan  Anderson  foresee  that  day  how 
swiftly  was  to  come  further  ruin  for  the  kingdom  of 
oblivion  which  we  thought  that  we  had  found. 

" There'll  be  women  next!"  I  said  to  him  bitterly; 
though  this  was  a  vague  threat  of  a  thing  impossible. 

His  reply  was  a  look  more  than  half  frightened. 

"Don't!"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  V 

EDEN  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Tliis  being  the  Story  of  a  Paradise  ;  also  showing  the 
Exceeding  Loneliness  of  Adam 

Two  months  had  passed  since  the  wedding  of  Curly 
and  the  Littlest  Girl,  and  nothing  further  had  hap- 
pened in  the  way  of  change.  The  man  from  Phila- 
delphia had  not  come,  and,  to  the  majority  of  the 
population  of  Heart's  Desire  at  least,  the  railroad 
to  the  camp  remained  a  thing  as  far  distant  as  ever 
in  the  future.  Life  went  on,  spent  in  the  open  for 
the  most  part,  and  in  silent  thoughtfulness  by  choice. 
Blackman,  J.  P.,  now  languished  in  desuetude  among 
the  fallen  remnants  of  an  erstwhile  promising  structure 
of  the  law;  and  there  being  no  further  occupation 
for  the  members  of  the  bar,  the  latter  customarily 
spent  much  of  the  day  sitting  in  the  sun. 

"You  might  look  several  times  at  me,"  said  Dan 
Anderson  one  day,  without  preface  or  provocation, 
"and  yet  not  read  all  my  past  in  these  fair  linea- 
ments.' ' 

This  seemed  unworthy  of  notice.  A  man's  past 
was  a  subject  tabooed  in  Heart's  Desire.  Besides, 
the  morning  was  already  so  warm  that  we  were  glad 
to  seek  the  shade  of  an  adobe  wall.    Conversation 

54 


HEART'S  DESIRE  55 

languished.  Dan  Anderson  absent-mindedly  rolled  a 
cigarrillo  with  one  hand,  his  gaze  the  while  fixed  on 
the  horizon,  on  which  we  could  see  the  faint  loom  of 
the  Bonitos,  toothed  upon  the  blue  sky,  fifty  miles 
away.  His  mind  might  also  have  been  fifty  miles 
away,  as  he  gazed  vaguely.  There  was  nothing  to 
do.  There  was  only  the  sun,  and  as  against  it  the 
shade.  That  made  up  life  at  Heart's  Desire.  It 
was  a  million  miles  away  to  any  other  sort  of  world; 
and  that  world,  in  so  far  as  it  had  reference  to  a  past, 
was  a  subject  not  mentioned  among  the  men  of 
Heart's  Desire.  Yet  this  morning  there  seemed  to 
be  something  upon  Dan  Anderson's  mind,  as  he 
edged  a  little  farther  along  into  the  shade,  and  felt 
in  his  pocket  for  a  match. 

"No,  you  wouldn't  think,  just  to  look  at  me,  my 
friend,"  said  he,  "you  wouldn't  think,  without 
runnin'  side  lines,  and  takin'  elevations  for  dips, 
spurs,  and  angles,  that  I  had  ever  been  anything  but 
a  barrister;  now,  would  you?  Attorney  and  Coun- 
sellor-at-law,  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night:  that 
bill  of  specifications  is  engraved  on  my  brow,  ain't 
it?  You  like  enough  couldn't  believe  that  I  was 
ever  anything  else  —  several  things  else,  could 
you?" 

His  speech  still  failed  of  interest,  except  as  it 
afforded  additional  proof  of  the  manner  in  which 
Yale,  Harvard,  Princeton,  and  the  like  disappeared 
from  the  speech  of  all  men  at  Heart's  Desire.    Dan 


56  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Anderson  sat  down  in  the  shade,  his  long  legs  stretched 
out  in  front  of  him.  "My  boy,"  said  he,  "you  can 
gaze  at  me  if  you  ain't  too  tired.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  in  this  pernicious  age  of  specialization  I  stand 
out  as  the  one  glitterin'  example  of  success  in  more 
than  one  line.  Why,  once  I  was  a  success  as  a  jour- 
nalist —  for  a  few  moments." 

There  was  now  a  certain  softness  and  innocence 
in  his  voice,  which  had  portent,  although  I  did  not 
at  that  time  suspect  that  he  really  had  anything  of 
consequence  upon  his  soul.  Without  more  encour- 
agement he  went  on. 

"My  brother,"  said  he,  "when  I  first  came  out  of 
Princeton  I  was  burnin'  up  with  zeal.  There  was 
the  world,  the  whole  wide  world,  plunged  into  an 
abyss  of  error  and  wrongdoin'.  I  was  the  sole  and 
remainin'  hope.  Like  all  great  men,  I  naturally 
wanted  to  begin  the  savin'  as  early  as  possible;  and 
like  everybody  else  who  comes  out  of  Princeton,  I 
thought  the  best  medium  for  immediate  salvation 
was  journalism.  1  wasn't  a  newspaper  man.  I  never 
said  that  at  all.    I  was  a  journalist. 

"Well,  dad  got  me  a  place  on  a  paper  in  New  York, 
and  I  worked  on  the  dog-fight  department  for  a  time, 
it  havin'  been  discovered  that  I  was  noted  along 
certain  lines  of  research  in  Princeton.  I  knew  the 
pedigree  and  fightin'  weight  of  every  white,  black, 
or  brindle  pup  in  four  States.  Now,  a  whole  lot  of 
fellows  come  out  of  college  who  don't  know  that 


HEART'S  DESIRE  57 

much ;  or  if  they  do,  they  don't  know  how  to  apply 
their  knowledge.    Now  dogs,  that's  plumb  useful. 

"I  was  still  doin'  dogs  when  the  presidential 
campaign  came  along,  or  rather,  that  feature  of  our 
national  customs  which  precedes  the  selection  of  the 
People's  Choice.  First  thing,  of  course,  the  People's 
Choice  had  to  take  a  run  over  the  country  —  which 
was  a  good  thing,  too,  because  he  didn't  know  much 
about  it  —  and  let  the  people  in  general  know  that 
he  was  their  choice.  I  went  along  to  tell  the  other 
people  how  he  broke  it  to  them." 

I  confess  I  sat  up  at  this,  for  there  was  now  so 
supreme  an  innocence  in  Dan  Anderson's  eye  that 
one  might  have  been  morally  certain  that  something 
was  coming.  "From  dogs  to  politics  —  wasn't  that 
a  little  singular?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  he;  "but  you  have  to  be  versatile  in 
journalism.  The  regular  man  who  was  to  have  gone 
on  that  special  presidential  car  got  slugged  at  an 
art  gatherin'.  I  didn't  ask  for  the  place.  I  just 
went  and  told  the  managin'  editor  I  was  ready  if  he 
would  give  me  an  order  for  expense  money.  It 
wouldn't  have  been  good  form  for  him  to  look  up 
and  pay  any  attention  to  me,  so  I  got  the  job.  I 
needed  to  see  the  country  just  as  much  as  the  People's 
Choice  did. 

"  Three  other  fellows  went  along,  —  newspaper 
men.  I  was  the  only  real  journalist.  We  did  the 
presidential  tour  for  ten  towns  a  day.    I  watched 


58  HEART'S  DESIRE 

what  the  other  fellows  did,  and  in  about  two  hours 
it  was  easy.  Everything's  easy  if  you  think  so. 
Folks  made  a  lot  of  fuss  about  gettin'  along  in  the 
world.    That's  all  a  mistake. 

"  People's  Choice  tore  it  off  in  fine  shape.  Comin' 
into  Basswood  Junction  he  turns  to  his  Honorable 
Secretary,  and  says  he,  ' Jimmy,  what's  this?' 
Jimmy  turns  to  his  card  cabinet,  and  says  he: 
'Prexie,  this  is  Basswood  Junction.  Three  railroads 
come  in  here  —  and  get  away  as  soon  as  they  can. 
Four  overall  factories  and  a  reaper  plant.  Popula- 
tion six  thousand,  and  increasin'  satisfactory.  Hon. 
Charles  D.  Bastrop,  M.C.,  from  this  district,  on  the 
straight  Republican  ticket  for  the  last  three  hun- 
dred years;  world  without  end/ 

"Then  the  train  would  pull  into  this  station  to  the 
sad  sweet  notes  of  the  oompah  horn,  and  the  delega- 
tion of  leadin'  citizens  would  file  in  behind  the  car, 
and  the  first  leadin'  citizen  would  get  red  in  the  face 
with  his  Welcome  talk,  while  we  four  slaves  of  the 
people  were  hustling  the  President's  speech  to  the 
depot  telegraph  wire  before  he  said  it.  People's 
Choice,  he  stands  on  the  back  platform  with  one 
hand  in  his  bosom,  and  says  he:  ' Fellow-citizens 
of  Basswood  Junction,  I  am  proud  to  see  before  me 
this  large  and  distinguished  gatherin'  of  our  noble 
North  American  fauna.  My  visit  to  your  pleasant 
valley  is  wholly  without  political  significance. 
These  noble  et  cetera;   these  smilin'  et  cetera;   these 


HEART'S  DESIRE  59 

beautiful  et  cetera,  fill  me  with  the  proudest  emo- 
tions of  et  cetera.  This,  our  great  and  glorious  et 
cetera;  Basswood  Junction  has  four  magnificent 
factories,  and  is  the  centre  of  three  great  trunk  fines 
of  railroad  which  radiate  et  cetera;  it  is  destined 
to  be  a  great  commercial  et  cetera.  And  what  could 
be  more  confirmatory  of  the  sober,  practical  judg- 
ment of  the  citizens  of  this  flourishing  community 
than  the  fact  that  they  have  produced  and  given  to 
the  world  that  distinguished  statesman  and  gentle- 
man, the  Hon.  Charles  D.  Bastrop,  who  is  your 
representative  in  the  Congress  of  the  United  States 
and  who  has  always  et  cetera,  et  cetera?  Fellow- 
citizens,  the  issue  before  this  country  to-day — ' 
and  that  was  where  he  would  hit  his  gait. 

"He  had  three  of  these,  and  on  the  schedule  laid 
out  by  the  chairman  of  the  Central  Committee  he 
couldn't  spring  any  two  alike  closer  together  than 
a  hundred  miles.  The  whole  business  would  take 
about  five  minutes  to  a  station.  We  would  put 
number  Two,  or  number  Three,  or  whichever  it  was, 
on  the  wire,  while  the  People's  Choice  was  talking 
provided  we  could  catch  the  station  agent,  who  on 
such  occasions  was  bigger  than  the  President.  Then, 
toot !  toot !  and  we  were  off  for  the  next  Basswood 
Junction,  to  show  'em  who  was  their  spontaneous 
choice. 

"Well,  that  was  all  right,  and  it  was  easy  work  to 
report.    The  only  thing  was  not  to  get  number  One 


60  HEART'S  DESIRE 

speech  mixed  up  with  number  Two  or  number  Three 
at  any  given  point.  The  Honorable  Secretary  had 
to  attend  to  that.  So  all  the  time  we  were  bored 
for  something  to  do.  What  we  was  hopin'  and 
longin'  for  all  the  time  was  that  some  one  in  the 
opposition  at  some  station  would  haul  off  and  throw 
a  brick  at  the  car.  Then  we  would  have  had  some 
News." 

"Oh/'  said  I,  "you  got  to  wanting  news!  You 
had  a  narrow  escape." 

" Maybe,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "I  admit  I  got  to 
likin'  the  game.  I  think,  too,  I  did  get  to  under- 
stand^' what  news  was.  So  one  day,  when  I  was 
mighty  tired  of  the  four-factory,  railroad-centre, 
leadin'-citizen  business,  I  mixed  up  the  speeches 
on  the  Honorable  Secretary  between  stations."  Dan 
Anderson  blew  a  faint  wreath  of  blue  smoke  up  toward 
the  blue  sky  and  remained  silent  for  a  time. 

"The  next  particular  Basswood  Junction  happened 
to  be  a  Democratic  minin'  town,  instead  of  a  Repub- 
lican agricultural  community.  It  didn't  have  any 
overall  factories  at  all.  They  didn't  relish  bein'  told 
that  they  had  voted  the  straight  Republican  ticket 
ever  since  Alexander  Hamilton,  and  that  they  had 
given  to  the  public  that  distinguished  citizen,  James 
K.  Blinkensop,  when  the  man  they  had  really  given 
to  the  public  was  Dan  G.  Healy.  Oh,  the  whole 
thing  got  all  mixed  up !  Now,  that  was  News !  And 
they  fired  me  by  wire  that  night!    The  People's 


HEART'S  DESIRE  61 

Choice  was  awful  hostile.  And  me  raised  tender, 
too!" 

"Well,  then,  what  did  you  do?"  asked  I,  getting 
interested  in  spite  of  myself. 

"I  was  far,  far  from  home.  But  not  thus  easily 
could  I  be  shaken  out  of  my  chosen  profession.  In 
thirty-eight  minutes  I  was  at  work  as  managin' 
editor  of  a  mornin'  paper.  That  particular  Basswood 
Junction  was  just  startin'  a  daily,  the  kind  the  real- 
estate  men  and  the  local  congressman  have  to  sup- 
port or  go  out  of  the  business.  Their  editor  had  been 
raised  on  a  weekly,  and  had  been  used  to  goin'  to 
sleep  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evenin'.  The  rumor 
spread  that  a  metropolitan  journalist  had  fallen  out 
of  a  balloon  into  their  midst.  That  morning's  paper 
was  two  days  late.  So  I  just  went  in  and  went  to 
work.  I  sent  every  one  else  home  to  bed,  and  sat 
down  to  write  the  paper. 

"Of  course,  I  began  with  dogs,  for  on  account  of 
my  early  trainin'  I  knew  more  about  that.  Two 
columns  of  dogs  as  a  Local  Industry.  Then  I  took 
up  Mineral  Resources,  about  half  a  column.  Might 
have  played  that  up  a  little  stronger,  but  I  was  shy 
on  facts.  Then  I  did  the  Literary  and  Dramatic. 
I  shuddered  when  I  struck  that,  because  when  a 
man  on  a  paper  gets  put  on  Literary  and  Dramatic, 
it  usually  isn't  far  to  his  finish.  He  don't  have  to 
send  out  after  trouble  —  it  comes  to  him  spontane- 
ous.    Next,  I   had   to   do   Society.      Didn't  know 


62  HEART'S  DESIRE 

anybody  there,  so  that  was  a  little  hard.  Had  to 
content  myself  with  the  Beautiful-and-Accomplished- 
Who-Shall-be-Nameless,  —  that  sort  of  thing.  Why," 
said  Dan  Anderson,  plaintively,  "it's  awful  hard  to 
write  society  and  local  news  in  a  town  when  you've 
only  been  there  fifteen  minutes.  But  a  real  metro- 
politan journalist  ought  to  be  able  to,  and  I  did. 

"By  this  time  the  office  force  was  standin'  around 
some  awed.  I  sent  the  foreman  of  the  pressroom  out 
for  a  bottle  of  fizz.  Sarsaparilla  was  the  nearest 
he  could  come  to  it,  but  it  went.  Then  I  turned  my 
hot  young  blood  loose  on  the  editorial  page.  'This,' 
said  I,  'is  my  opportunity  to  save  the  country,  and 
I'm  goin'  to  save  it,  right  here.'  It  was  then  eleven 
hours,  forty-five  minutes,  and  eight  seconds  by  the 
grandpa  clock  which  adorned  the  newly  furnished 
sanctum."  Dan  Anderson  again  sat  silent  a  few 
moments,  the  stub  of  his  cigarrillo  between  his  fingers. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  he,  "it  might,  perhaps,  have 
been  worse,  although  I  admit  that  was  unlikely.  I 
couldn't  prove  an  alibi,  but  there  were  extenuatin' 
circumstances.  The  fact  was,  I  got  the  politics  of 
the  place  mixed  up  almost  as  bad  as  the  People's 
Choice.  That  community  woke  up  as  one  man  at 
six-thirty  the  next  morning,  and  turned  out  to  see 
the  evidence  of  their  progress.  I  never  did  see  so 
many  Democrats  in  my  life.  Or  was  it  Republicans  ? 
I  forget.  I  had  given  'em  a  good,  hot,  mixed  Prince- 
ton paper,  —  dog,  international  law,  society,  industrial 


HEART'S  DESIRE  63 

progress,  footlight  favorites,  and  the  whole  business; 
had  Sermons  from  Many  Lands,  and  a  Conundrum 
Department,  as  well  as  a  Household  Corner  —  How 
to  get  Beautiful  for  the  ladies,  How  to  get  Rich 
for  the  men,  How  to  get  Strong  for  the  advertisers  — 
why,  if  I  do  say  it,  I  don't  believe  any  one  fellow 
was  ever  much  more  cosmopolitan  in  all  his  life, 
inside  the  space  of  one  night's  writin'.  But  they 
didn't  like  me.  I  was  too  good  for  them.  Ah, 
well!" 

Dan  Anderson  sighed  softly.  The  lazy  sun 
crawled  on.  Nobody  came  into  the  street.  There 
was  nothing  to  happen.  It  might  have  been  an  hour 
before  Dan  Anderson  leaned  over,  picked  up  a  splinter 
to  whittle,  and  went  on  with  his  story,  back  of  which 
I  was  long  before  this  well  convinced  there  remained 
some  topic  concealed,  albeit  beneath  inconsequent 
and  picturesque  details. 

"At  that  state  of  my  entwickelung,  as  the  French 
say,  I  still  wore  my  trousers  with  a  strong  crimp  at 
the  bottom  and  cut  pear-shaped  at  the  hips.  That 
pair  was.  The  next  one  wasn't.  It  was  a  long,  long 
way  to  that  next  pair.    I  forgot  how  many  years. 

"You  see,  by  that  time  —  although  I  did  still  say 
'rully,'  account  of  having  roomed  with  a  man  who 
had  been  in  Harvard  for  a  while  —  I  was  really 
beginning  to  wake  up  just  a  little  bit.  My  dad  still 
supposed  I  was  doing  dog  on  the  dramatic  page  in 
New  York,  whereas  the  facts  were  I  had  been  fired 


64  HEART'S  DESIRE 

twice.  But  that  did  me  good.  I  sort  of  woke  up 
about  then,  and  realized  there  were  such  things  in 
the  world  as  folks.  I  wasn't  the  People's  Choice, — 
not  yet,  —  but  I  was  learnin'  a  heap  more  about  the 
Basswood  Junctions  of  this  world.  And  I  want  to 
say  to  you  that  after  all's  said  and  done,  Princeton 
hasn't  got  Basswood  Junction  skinned  no  ways 
permanent.  There's  several  kinds  of  things  in  life, 
when  you  come  to  find  it  out.  It  ain't  all  in  the  gay 
metropolis. 

"At  half-past  four  one  afternoon  I  turned  the  roJl 
down  out  of  my  trousers  and  took  account  of  the 
world.  Says  I  to  myself :  '  Journalism  is  not  a  science. 
It  ain't  exact  enough.'  Then  I  thought  of  studyin' 
medicine.  Bah!  That's  not  a  science.  It's  a  sur- 
vival. I  clerked  for  a  while,  but  I  couldn't  stand  it. 
What  I  was  lookin'  for  was  a  science.  At  last  I 
concluded  to  take  up  law,  because  I  thought  it  was 
more  of  a  science  than  any  of  these  other  things.  I 
wanted  some  place  where  I  could  sort  of  reason 
things  out,  and  have  them  fit  and  hang  together. 
Well,  the  law  —  well,  you  know  the  law  isn't  just 
exactly  that  way.  But  it's  a  beautiful  thing  if  you 
just  hang  to  the  principles,  and  don't  believe  too 
much  of  the  practice.  The  law  is  disgraced  —  but 
at  bottom  what  the  law  meant  to  do  was  to  give 
humanity  some  sort  of  a  square  deal;  which,  of 
course,  it  doesn't.  It  ain't  a  science;  but  I  love  it, 
because  it  might  have  been." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  65 

He  fell  silent  once  again  for  a  time,  after  his  fashion, 
but  now  his  gaze  was  softened,  although  he  went 
on  with  his  light  speech.  "I  rather  thought  I  would 
take  up  the  science  of  the  law  as  the  most  possible 
line  of  activity  for  a  man  of  my  attainments.  I 
began  to  read  a  little  on  the  side.  Then  I  didn't 
know  whether  to  have  contempt  for  us  fools  who 
live  and  endure  the  eternal  folly,  or  whether  I  ought 
to  pity  Basswood  Junction  and  Princeton,  because 
life  is  all  so  awfully  hard  and  hopeless.  Meantime, 
Old  Mr.  World  went  right  on  —  didn't  stop  to  ask 
me  anything. 

"You  can  understand  these  things  took  a  little 
time.  Meantime,  my  dad  had  sized  me  up  as  one 
more  young  man  ruined  by  college  life.  The  old 
man  had  a  heap  of  sense  in  him,  and  he  did  the  right 
thing.    He  told  me  to  go  to  the  devil." 

"So  you  came  West?" 

"So  I  came  West.    Same  pants." 

"But  you  haven't  told  me  about  the  girl,"  said  I, 
quietly. 

Ah,  that  was  it,  then!  I  could  see  his  eyelids 
twitch.  A  moisture  broke  out  on  his  lower  lip,  in 
that  country  where  perspiration  was  so  little  know.i. 
"And  you!"  he  said.  "But  then,  it  didn't  take 
much  brains  to  guess  that.  It  was  the  same  way 
with  you.  We  all' of  us  came  here  to  Heart's  Desire 
because  some  time,  some  where,  there  was  a  Girl." 

So  now  we  both  were  silent.    Indeed,  all  the  world 


66  HEART'S  DESIRE 

was  silent.  The  calm  valley  lay  unwinking  in  the 
sun.  The  grave  mountains  stood  about  unperturbed, 
unagitated,  calm.  The  blue  sky  swept  above,  peace- 
ful, unflecked  by  any  moving  cloud.  There  was  not 
a  leaf  in  all  that  land  to  give  a  rustle,  nor  any  water 
which  might  afford  a  ripple.  It  was  a  world  silent, 
finished,  past  and  beyond  life  and  its  frettings,  with 
nothing  to  trouble,  and  with  nothing  which  bade  one 
think  of  any  world  gone  by.  Here  was  no  place  for 
memories  or  dreams.  The  rush  of  another  world 
might  go  on.  Folk  might  live  and  love,  grieve  and 
joy,  and  sorrow  and  die,  and  it  mattered  nothing. 
These  things  came  not  to  Heart's  Desire. 

Presently  Dan  Anderson  was  guilty  of  a  thing  revo- 
lutionary, horrible !  He  sat  silent  as  long  as  he  could, 
but  at  length  there  broke  from  him  a  groan  that  was 
half  a  sob.  He  rose  and  flung  out  an  arm  at  the  great 
blue  heaven.  " Girl !"  he  cried.  "Girl!"  Then  he 
sank  down,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands.  One  might 
have  heard  falling,  faint  and  far  off,  the  shattered 
crystals  of  the  walls  that  had  long  hedged  sacredly 
about  the  valley  of  Heart's  Desire.  One  might  have 
heard,  sweeping  the  soft  and  silken  curtains  of  its 
oblivion,  the  rough  rush  of  a  disturbing  wind ! 

Dan  Anderson's  back  was  in  shame  turned  to  me 
as  he  gazed  down  the  valley.  "Friend,"  said  he,  "I 
swore  never  to  think  of  her  once' more.  Of  course, 
the  old  ways  had  to  end.  Her  people  wouldn't  have 
it.     She  told  me  she  could  not  be  happy  with  a 


HEART'S  DESIRE  67 

dreamer ;  that  it  was  no  time  for  dreamers ;  that 
the  world  was  run  by  workers.  She  told  me  — 
well,  I  came  West,  and  after  a  while  a  little  farther 
West. 

"I  hadn't  begun,  I  know  that.  It  was  fair  enough 
to  suppose  I  never  would  begin.  But  at  least  I  didn't 
holler.  I  sat  down  to  read  law.  Ah,  don't  let's  talk 
of  it.  Her  face  was  on  the  pages.  I  would  brush  it 
off,  and  read  over  a  page  a  dozen  times.  I  had  to 
force  it  into  my  mind.  I  worked  so  hard  —  but 
maybe  it  was  all  the  better  for  me.  I  not  only  learned 
my  law,  but  I  remember  to  this  minute  every  mis- 
placed comma  and  every  broken  type  on  every  page 
I  read;  and  I  know  how  type  looks,  irregularly  set 
around  a  roll  of  brown  hair  and  a  pair  of  gray  eyes 
that  look  straight  at  you.  My  boy,  when  the  prin- 
ciples of  law  are  back  and  under  that  kind  of  a  page 
illustration,  they  are  hard  to  get,  and  you  don't  forget 
them  when  they're  yours.  It  wasn't  hard  to  learn 
things  in  Princeton.  It's  the  things  out  of  college 
that  are  hard  to  learn. 

"Well,  you  know  how  that  is.  A  fellow  lives  be- 
cause this  physical  machine  of  ours  is  wound  up  for 
threescore  years  and  ten,  and  unless  the  powers  of 
evil  get  their  fingers  in  the  works,  it  runs.  Well,  one 
time,  after  I  was  admitted  to  the  bar  back  there,  I 
was  sitting  one  night  reading  Chitty  on  Pleading. 
That  was  the  worst  of  all  the  books.  Contracts, 
notes  and  bills,  torts,  replevin,  and  ejectment  —  all 


68  HEART'S  DESIRE 

those  things  were  easy.  But  when  I  got  to  Chitty, 
the  girl's  face  would  always  get  on  the  page  and  stick 
there.  So  one  night,  seeing  that  I  was  gone,  I  took 
Chitty  on  Pleading,  girl's  face  and  all,  and  screwed 
it  shut,  tight  and  fast  in  the  letter-press.  I  allowed 
she  couldn't  get  out  of  there!  Then  I  pulled  my 
freight.  I  punched  a  burro  into  Heart's  Desire,  two 
hundred  miles,  just  as  you  did.  I  have  lived  here, 
just  as  you  have.  No  life,  no  trouble,  no  woman  — 
why,  you  know,  this  is  Heart's  Desire !" 

"It  was,"  said  I;  "God  bless  it." 

"And  amen !  We'd  all  have  been  in  the  Army,  or 
burglary,  or  outlawry,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Heart's 
Desire.    God  bless  it." 

"But  she  got  out,"  said  I.  "Some  one  unscrewed 
the  press?" 

"Yes,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "She's  out.  They're 
out.    I  tell  you,  they're  out,  all  over  the  world ! 

"We  were  three  hundred  men  here,  and  it  was 
Heaven.  One  vast  commune,  and  yet  no  commune. 
Everything  there  was  if  you  asked  for  it,  and  noth- 
ing you  could  take  if  you  didn't  ask.  Not  a  church, 
because  there  wasn't  a  woman.  Not  a  courthouse, 
because  there  wasn't  any  crime,  and  that  because 
there  wasn't  a  woman.  Not  a  society  —  not  a  home 
—  and  I  thank  God  for  it.  I  knew  what  it  was  back 
there  —  every  man  suspicious,  every  man  scared, 
every  man  afraid  of  his  own  shadow  —  not  a  clean, 
true  note  in  all  the  world ;  and  incidentally  a  woman 


HEART'S  DESIRE  69 

behind  every  tree,  in  every  corner,  whichever  way 
you  turned.  Life  in  the  States  was  being  a  peon  with 
a  halter  around  your  neck.  But  it  was  never  that 
way  here.  There  never  was  any  crime  in  Heart's 
Desire.  It's  no  crime  to  shoot  a  man  when  he's 
tired  of  living  and  wants  you  to  kill  him.  Why,  this 
was  Heart's  Desire  until  — " 

"Until  the  press  got  loose?" 

"It's  loose  all  over  the  world!"  cried  Dan  Ander- 
son. "They've  got  out.  You  can't  keep  them  in. 
How  did  Charlie  Allen  get  killed  over  at  Sumner  ? 
Woman  in  it.  When  the  boys  arrested  this  fellow 
Garcia  over  at  the  Nogales,  what  was  it  all  about? 
A  woman.  What  set  the  desperado  Arragon  on  the 
warpath  so  the  boys  had  to  kill  him?  That  was  a 
woman,  too.  What  made  Bill  Hilliard  kill  Pete 
Anderson?  Woman  moved  in  within  fifty  miles  of 
them  on  the  Nogales.  Here's  Curly;  good  man  in 
his  profession.  Night- wrangler,  day-herder,  bog-rider, 
buster,  top-waddy  —  why,  he'd  be  the  old  man  on 
the  range  for  his  company  if  that  Kansas  family 
hadn't  moved  down  in  here  and  married  him.  It's 
Paradise  Lost,  that's  what  it  is.  Arizona  next,  and 
it's  full  of  copper  mines  and  railroads.  Where  shall 
we  go?"  The  sweat  stood  full  on  his  lip  now,  and 
a  deep  line  ran  across  his  forehead.  "Where  shall 
we  go?"   he  repeated  insistently.    "Come!" 

In  my  own  bitterness  at  all  this  I  grew  sarcastic 
with  him.     "Sit  down,"  said  I.     "Why  all  this  fool- 


70  HEART'S  DESIRE 

ishness  about  a  college  girl  with  a  shirtwaist  and  a 
straw  hat?" 

"Oh,  now,"  and  his  forehead  puckered  up,  "don't 
you  be  deceived  for  one  minute,  my  friend.  This 
wasn't  ordinary.  No  plain  woman;  no  common  or 
crimping  variety.  Just  a  specimen  of  the  great  North 
American  Girl!"  He  took  off  his  hat.  "And  may 
God  bless  her,  goin'  or  comin' !"  said  he. 

This  was  the  most  untoward  situation  ever  yet 
known  in  the  valley  of  Heart's  Desire.  Dan  Anderson 
was  proving  recreant  to  our  creed.  And  yet,  what 
could  be  done  ? 

Dan  Anderson  presently  made  the  situation  more 
specific.  "May  old  Jack  Wilson  just  be  damned!" 
said  he.  "If  he  hadn't  found  that  gold  prospect  up 
on  the  Homes  take,  we  might  have  lived  here  forever. 
Besides,  there's  the  coal  fields  yonder  on  the  Patos, 
no  one  knows  how  big." 

Coal !  That  meant  Eastern  Capital.  I  could  have 
guessed  the  rest  before  he  told  it. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  we've  got  to  sell  our  coal  mines,  and 
get  a  lot  of  States  men  in  here  monkeyin'  around. 
And,  of  course,  it  couldn't  have  been  anybody  else 
but  the  particular  daddy  of  this  particular  girl  who 
had  to  come  pokin'  in  here  to  look  at  the  country ! 
He's  got  money  literally  sinful." 

"But,  man,"  I  cried,  "you  don't  mean  to  say  that 
the  girl's  coming,  too?  " 

He  nodded  mutely.     "They're  out,"  said  he,  at 


HEART'S  DESIRE  71 

last.  "You  can't  get  away  from  'em.  They're  all 
over  the  world." 

Here,  indeed,  was  trouble,  and  no  opportunity  for 
speech  offered  for  a  long  time,  as  we  sat  moodily  in 
the  sun.  At  about  this  time,  Tom  Osby  drove  his 
freight  wagon  down  the  street  and  outspanned  at 
the  corral  of  Whiteman  the  Jew,  just  across  the  street. 
Tom  tore  open  a  bale  of  hay,  and  threw  down  a  hand- 
ful of  precious  oats  to  each  of  his  hump-backed  grays, 
and  then  sat  down  on  the  wagon-tongue,  where,  as 
he  filled  a  pipe,  he  began  to  sing  his  favorite  song. 

"  I  never  loved  a  fond  gazel-1-l-e," 

he  drawled  out.  Dan  Anderson  drew  his  revolver 
and  fired  a  swift  shot  through  the  top  of  Tom  Osby's 
wagon.  Tom  came  up,  rifle  in  hand,  like  a  jack-in- 
the-box,  and  bent  on  bloodshed. 

"Shut  up,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 

"Well,  I  ain't  so  sure,"  said  Tom,  judicially  rub- 
bing his  chin.  "It's  a  new  wagon-bow  for  you  fel- 
lers; and  next  time  just  you  don't  get  quite  so  funny, 
by  a  lee  tie  shade." 

I  interfered  at  this  point,  for  trouble  had  begun  in 
Heart's  Desire  over  smaller  things  than  this.  "  Don  t 
you  know  it's  Sunday?"  I  asked  Tom  Osby. 

"I  hadn't  noticed  it,"  said  he. 

"Well,  it  is,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "You  come 
here,  and  tell  me  what  time  the  stage  gets  in  from 
Socorro." 


72  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"I  ain't  no  alminack,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "and  1 
ain't  no  astrollyger." 
"He's  loco,  Tom,"  said  I. 

"Well,  I  reckon  so.  When  a  man  begins  to  worry 
about  what  time  the  stage'll  come  in,  he's  gettin'  too 
blamed  particular  for  this  country." 

"This,"  said  I,  "is  a  case  of  Eastern  Capital  — 
Eastern  Capital,  Eve  and  the  Serpent,  all  on  one 
stage.  The  only  comfort  is  that  no  Eastern  Capital 
has  ever  been  able  to  stay  here  more  than  one  day. 
She'll  go  back,  shirtwaist  and  all,  and  you  can  begin 
over  again."  But  the  dumb  supplication  in  Dan 
Anderson's  eye  caused  me  swift  regret. 

There  was  no  telegraph  at  Heart's  Desire.  It  was 
ninety  miles  to  the  nearest  wire.  The  stage  came  in 
but  occasionally  from  the  distant  railroad.  Yet  — 
and  this  was  one  of  the  strange  things  of  that  strange 
country,  which  we  accepted  without  curiosity  and 
without  argument  —  there  was,  in  that  far-away 
region,  a  mysterious  fashion  by  which  news  got  about 
over  great  distances.  Perhaps  it  was  a  rider  in  by 
the  short  trail  over  Lone  Mountain  who  brought 
the  word  that  he  had  seen,  thirty  miles  away  by  the 
longer  road  up  the  canon,  the  white  smoke  of  the 
desert  dust  that  said  the  stage  was  coming.  This 
news  brought  little  but  a  present  terror  to  Dan 
Anderson,  as  I  looked  at  him  in  query. 

"Man,"  said  he,  as  he  gripped  my  arm,  "you  see, 
up  there  on  Carrizo,  the  big  canon  where  we  hunt 


HEART'S  DESIRE  73 

bear.  You  know,  up  there  at  the  end,  there's  a  big 
pine  tree.  Well,  now,  if  you  or  any  of  the  citizens 
of  this  commercial  emporium  should  require  the  legal 
services  of  the  late  Daniel  Anderson,  you  go  up  the 
canon  and  look  up  the  tree.  I'll  be  there.  I'm 
scared." 

By  this  I  knew  that  he  would,  in  all  likelihood, 
meet  the  stage  and  help  Eve  to  alight  at  Heart's 
Desire.  Moreover,  I  reproached  him  as  having  been 
deliberately  a  party  to  this  invasion.  "You've  been 
writing  back  home  to  the  girl,"  I  said.  "That  is  not 
playing  the  game.  That's  violation  of  the  creed. 
You're  renegade.  Then  go  back  home.  You  don't 
belong  here!" 

"I'm  not!  I  won't!  I  didn't!"  he  retorted.  "I 
didn't  write  —  at  least  only  a  few  times.  I  tried  not 
to  —  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  Man,  I  tell  you  I 
couldn't  help  it." 


CHAPTER  VI 

EVE  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

How  the  Said  Eve  arrived  on  the  Same  Stage  with  Eastern 
Capital,  to  the  Interest  of  All,  and  the  Embarrassment 
of  Some 

The  sun  drew  on  across  the  enchanted  valley  and 
began  to  sink  toward  the  rim  of  the  distant  Baxter 
Peak.  The  tremendous  velvet  robes  of  the  purple 
evening  shadows  dropped  slowly  down  upon  the 
majestic  shoulders  of  Carrizo,  guardian  of  the  valley. 
A  delicious  kindness  came  into  the  air,  sweet,  although 
no  flower  was  in  all  that  land,  and  soft,  though  this 
was  far  from  any  sea,  unless  it  were  the  waters  im- 
measurably deep  beneath  this  sun-dried  soil.  There 
was  no  cloud  even  at  the  falling  of  the  sun,  but  the 
sun  had  no  harshness  in  his  glow.  There  was  a  blue 
and  purple  mystery  over  all  the  world,  and  calm  and 
sweetness  and  strength  came  down  as  it  were  a  mantle. 
Ah,  never  in  all  the  world  was  a  place  like  this  Eden, 
this  man's  Eden  of  Heart's  Desire ! 

A  gentle  wind  sighed  up  the  valley  from  the  nar- 
row canon  mouth,  as  it  did  every  day.  There  was 
no  variableness.  Surprises  did  not  come  thither. 
The  world  ran  always  in  one  pleasant  and  unchang- 

74 


HEART'S  DESIRE  75 

ing  groove.  But  the  breeze  this  evening  brought  no 
smile  of  content  to  Dan  Anderson's  face  as  he  sat 
waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  new  and  fateful  visitor 
to  our  ancient  Eden. 

"They'll  be  about  at  the  Carrizoso  Springs  now," 
said  Dan  Anderson,  "twelve  miles  away  down  the 
trail.    Can't  you  smell  the  cold  cream?" 

This  was  beyond  ken,  but  he  became  more  explicit. 
"Cold  cream  to  the  eyes  and  ears,"  said  he.  "To 
the  untutored  face,  the  sun  of  this  heathen  district 
is  something  sinful ;  and  like  enough  she  never  heard 
of  collodion  for  cracked  lips  in  an  alkali  country. 
And  a  veil  —  oh,  sacred  spirits !  that  veil  and  its 
contents  is  now  hatin'  Carrizoso  flats  and  all  the  inar- 
ticulate earth  till  f are-ye-well !  Wrapped  up  to  the 
topmast  in  a  white  veil,  —  or  one  of  was-white, — 
gray  travelling  gown,  common-sense  boots.  Gloves 
—  ah,  yes.  And  hate  —  hate  —  why,  can't  you  feel 
the  simmerin',  boilin'  hatred  of  that  States  girl  just 
raisin'  the  temperature  of  this  land  of  Canaan  ?  Hate 
us?  Why,  she'll  be  poisonous.  Ninety  miles  in  the 
sun,  at  ninety  in  the  shade.  Water  once  at  the  Mai 
Pais,  and  it  alkali." 

I  reminded  Dan  Anderson  that  in  view  of  his  prom- 
ise to  absent  himself  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the 
Socorro  stage,  he  was  not  conducting  himself  with 
the  proper  regard  either  to  decorum  or  historical 
accuracy. 

"I  want  to  go,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "and  I  ought 


76  HEART'S  DESIRE 

to  go.  I  ought  to  go  climb  that  tree  and  leave  a  pink 
and  lavender  card  of  regrets  for  the  lady  and  her  dad. 
I  reckon  I  will  go,  too,  if  I  can  ever  get  this  faintness 
out  of  my  legs.  But  somehow  I  can't  get  started. 
I'd  look  well,  tryin'  to  climb  a  tree  with  my  legs  this 
way,  wouldn't  I  ?    Man,  haven't  you  any  sympathy  ?  " 

So  we  sat  on  a  log  out  in  front  of  Uncle  Jim 
Brothers' s  hotel,  and  waited  for  the  worst  to  happen. 

"Don't  you  go  away,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "I 
want  you  for  my  second.  You  can  go  for  the  doctor. 
I  ain't  feelin'  very  well." 

Now,  there  was  no  doctor  in  Heart's  Desire,  nor 
had  there  ever  been,  as  Dan  Anderson  knew.  Neither 
did  he  look  in  need  of  any  help  whatsoever.  He 
made  no  foolish  masculine  attempt  at  personal  adorn- 
ment, but  his  long  figure,  with  good  bony  shoulders 
and  a  visible  waist  line,  looked  well  enough  in  the 
man's  garb  of  blue  shirt  and  belted  trousers.  A  rope 
of  hair  straggled  from  under  his  wide  hat;  for  in 
Heart's  Desire  wide  hats  were  worn  of  right  and  not 
in  affectation.  He  was  a  manly  man  enough,  in  a 
place  where  weak  men  were  rare.  The  one  most 
vitally  concerned  in  all  the  population  of  Heart's 
Desire,  he  was  now  the  one  least  visibly  affected.  All 
the  rest  of  the  settlement,  suddenly  smitten  by  the 
news  that  the  stage  was  coming  with  Eastern  Capital 
and  a  live  Woman,  had  hastened  under  cover  in  search 
of  coats  and  neckties.  Dan  Anderson  sat  out  on  the 
street  just  as  he  had  been,  and  watched  the  purple 


HEART'S  DESIRE  77 

mysteries  dropping  on  the  mountains,  and  waited 
grimly  for  that  which  was  to  come  to  him.  True, 
there  was  the  slight  moisture  on  his  brow  and  on  his 
under  lip,  but  otherwise  his  agitation  displayed  it- 
self only  in  an  occasional  exuberance  of  metaphor. 

For  my  own  part,  I  remained  unreconciled  to  these 
impending  events.  "What  will  you  do?'7  I  asked 
Dan  Anderson  bitterly,  "now  that  you've  been  ass 
enough  to  allow  this  girl  to  come  on  down  in  here? 
You'll  have  some  one  killed  in  this  town  before  long. 
Besides,  where  can  a  white  girl  live  in  this  place? 
There's  not  a  bedspread  or  a  linen  sheet  in  the  whole 
town." 

"You  talk  like  a  chambermaid,"  said  Dan  Ander- 
son, scornfully.  "Do  you  suppose  a  Wellesley  girl, 
accustomed  steady  to  high  thinkin',  can't  get  along 
with  a  little  plain  livin'  once  in  a  while?  As  for 
women  folks,  why  can't  Curly's  girl  take  care  of  her  ? 
Does  a  chance  lady  caller  in  this  city  need  a  thousand 
women  to  entertain  her  ?  And  blankets  —  why,  you 
know  well  enough  that  blankets  are  better  after  sun- 
down here  than  much  fine  linen.  Heart's  Desire'll 
be  here  calm  and  confident  after  this  brief  pageantry 
has  passed  from  our  midst." 

As  he  spoke,  he  half  turned  and  started,  with  a 
broken  exclamation.  I  followed  his  gaze.  The  street 
was  vacant,  barren  of  the  accustomed  throng  that 
usually  awaited  near  the  post-office  the  arrival  of  the 
infrequent  stagecoach.    But  there,  at  the  mouth  of 


78  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  canon,  almost  under  the  edge  of  the  deepening 
shadow  from  the  purple-topped  mountain,  appeared 
the  dusty  top  of  the  creeping  vehicle  that  bore  with 
it  the  fate  of  Heart's  Desire.  Dan  Anderson  was  pale 
now,  and  he  put  his  hand  to  his  shirt  collar,  as  though 
it  were  too  tight ;  but  he  sat  gazing  down  the  valley. 

"That  old  fool,  Bill  Godfrey,  is  showin'  them  our 
sign,"  said  he,  in  exasperation.  "  That's  a  nice  thing, 
ain't  it,  for  Eastern  Capital,  or  a  woman,  to  see  the 
first  thing?" 

It  was  Charlie  Lee,  a  landscape  artist  of  Heart's 
Desire,  who  subsequently  turned  his  studio  into  a 
shop  for  sign-painting,  who  had  prepared  the  grim 
blazonry  on  the  canon  wall  to  which  Dan  Anderson 
had  made  reference.  "Prepare  to  meet  thy  God!" 
was  the  sign  that  Charlie  Lee  had  painted  there.  It 
was  the  last  thing  he  did  on  his  way  out  of  town. 
That  was  the  day  after  certain  outlaws  had  killed 
a  leading  citizen.  Charlie's  emotions,  of  necessity, 
turned  to  paint  for  expression;  and  there  had  never 
been  any  other  funeral  sermon.  The  inhabitants  had 
always  left  the  sign  standing  there.  But  at  this 
time  it  seemed  not  wholly  suitable,  in  the  opinion  of 
Dan  Anderson. 

"They  ain't  goin'  to  understand  that,"  said  he. 
"They  can't  think  the  way  we  do.  Oh,  why  didn't 
that  old  fool  Godfrey  call  their  attention  the  other 
way?  Oh,  that'll  set  fine,  won't  it,  with  a  man 
comin'  to  buy  a  coal  mine,  and  a  girl  with  a  pot  of 


HEART'S  DESIRE  79 

white  vaseline  on  her  face  and  a  consumin'  vision 
of  tarantulas  in  her  soul !  This'll  be  another  case  of 
New  Jersey  Gold  Mill.  Old  Mr.  Eastern  Capital, 
why,  he'll  run  out  at  the  same  door  wherein  he  went ; 
that's  what  he'll  do.  And,  oh,  doctors  and  saints, 
look  at  that,  now!"  Bill  Godfrey  was  leaning  out 
of  the  coach-box  and  pointing  with  his  whip.  "He's 
showin'  them  the  town  now,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 
"  Why  —  I  hadn't  thought  before  but  what  this  place 
was  all  right." 

I  looked  anxiously  about,  sharing  his  consterna- 
tion. It  had  been  our  world  for  these  years,  a  world 
set  apart,  distant  and  unknown ;  but  it  had  been  sat- 
isfactory until  now.  Never  before  that  moment  had 
the  scattering  little  one-story  cabins  of  log  and  adobe 
seemed  so  small  and  insignificant,  so  unfit  for  human 
occupancy.    We  were  suddenly  ashamed. 

Dan  Anderson,  awaiting  his  fate,  did  not  fly,  but 
sat  gravely  on  the  log  in  front  of  Uncle  Jim's  hotel, 
and  waited  for  the  creaking  stage,  white  with  far- 
gathered  dust,  to  climb  the  last  pitch  of  the  road  up 
from  the  arroyo  and  come  on  with  the  shambling  trot 
of  a  pair  of  tired  mules  for  the  final  flourish  at  the 
end  of  the  long,  dry  trail. 

He  waited,  and  as  the  stagecoach  stopped,  arose 
and  walked  steadily  forward.  Another  man  might 
have  smiled  and  stammered  and  nervously  have 
offered  assistance  to  the  newcomers ;  but  Dan  Ander- 
son was  master  of  his  faculties. 


80  HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  curtains  still  concealed  the  tenant  of  the 
farther  side  of  the  rear  seat,  when  there  appeared 
the  passenger  nearest  to  our  side  of  the  coach, — 
a  citizen  of  the  eminently  respectable  sort,  forty 
inches  in  girth,  and  of  gray  chin  whiskers  and 
mustache.  He  was  well  shod  and  well  clad;  so 
much  could  be  seen  as  he  climbed  down  between 
the  wheels  and  stood  stamping  his  feet  to  shake 
the  travel  cramp  out  of  his  legs.  He  looked  thirsty 
and  unhappy  and  bored.  A  flush  of  recognition 
crossed  his  face  when  he  saw  the  tall  figure  approach- 
ing him. 

"Well,  Anderson/'  Mr.  Ellsworth  said,  extending 
a  hand,  "  how  are  you  ?  Got  here  at  last  —  awful 
drive.  Where  do  we  stop  ?  You  know  my  daughter, 
of  course." 

What  treachery  to  Heart's  Desire  was  here !  Dan 
Anderson,  a  man  who  had  come  to  stay,  shaking 
hands  on  terms  of  old  acquaintanceship,  apparently, 
with  Eastern  Capital  itself ;  and  not  content  with 
that,  advancing  easily  and  courteously,  hat  in  hand, 
to  greet  the  daughter  of  Eastern  Capital  as  though 
it  were  but  yesterday  that  last  they  met.  Moreover, 
and  bitterest  of  all  for  a  loyal  man  of  Heart's  Desire, 
was  there  not  a  glance,  a  word  between  them?  Did 
Dan  Anderson  whisper  a  word  and  did  she  flush 
faint  and  rosy  ?  or  was  it  a  touch  of  the  light  ?  Cer- 
tain it  was  he  reached  up  his  hand  to  take  hers, 
shaking  it  not  too  long  nor  too  fervently. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  81 

"I  do  remember  Miss  Ellsworth  very  well,  of 
course,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  said  he.  "We  are  all  very 
glad  to  see  you." 

"  And  we're  very  glad  to  see  you! "  echoed  the  girl. 
"Oh!  the  dust,  the  dust!"  She  spoke  in  a  full, 
sweet  voice,  excellent  even  for  outlanders  to  hear. 
If  there  were  agitation  in  her  tones,  agitation  in  Dan 
Anderson's  heart,  none  might  know  it.  This  meeting, 
five  years  and  two  thousand  miles  from  a  parting, 
seemed  the  most  natural  and  ordinary  thing  in  all 
the  world.  Mr.  Ellsworth  was  of  the  belief  that  he 
himself  had  planned  it  so  far  as  himself  and  Dan 
Anderson  were  concerned. 

"My  daughter  was  on  her  way  out  to  California, 
you  see,"  Ellsworth  began  again;  "down  at  El  Paso 
she  took  a  sudden  freak  for  coming  up  here  to  see 
about  the  climate  —  lots  of  folks  go  West  nowadays, 
you  know,  even  in  the  spring.  I'll  warrant  she's 
sick  of  the  trip  by  now.  A  good  climate  has  to  have 
dust  to  season  it.  One  of  the  mules  went  lame  — 
thought  we  would  never  get  here.  And  now  tell  me, 
where'll  she  stop?"  The  personification  of  Eastern 
Capital  looked  about  him  dubiously  at  the  only 
hotel  of  Heart's  Desire,  before  which  the  coach  had 
pulled  up  as  a  matter  of  course.  "Any  women 
folks  in  town,  anywhere?"  he  inquired,  bringing 
his  roving  eye  to  rest  upon  Dan  Anderson's  impas- 
sive face. 

"I  was  upon  the  point  of  saying,  Mr.  Ellsworth/' 


82  HEART'S  DESIRE 

replied  Dan  Anderson  —  and  vaguely  one  felt  that 
his  diction  was  once  more  that  of  Princeton  —  "  that 
my  friend  here,  a  prominent  member  of  the  bar,  will 
go  with  Miss  Ellsworth  to  the  house  of  a  nice  little 
woman,  wife  of  —  er  —  a  cow  gentleman  of  our  ac- 
quaintance. That  will  be  best  for  her.  I'll  try  to 
take  care  of  you  myself,  sir,  if  you  like,  while  the 
Learned  Counsel  goes  with  Miss  Ellsworth." 

There  were  introductions  and  further  small  talk, 
and  presently  Learned  Counsel  found  himself  climb- 
ing up  to  the  seat  beside  Eve ;  beside  the  Temptress 
who,  he  made  no  manner  of  doubt,  had  come  to  put 
an  end  to  Paradise. 

But  ah!  she  was  Eve  enough  for  any  Eden  —  a 
tall  girl,  rounded,  firm  formed,  with  a  mass  of  good 
brown  hair,  and  a  frank  gray  eye,  and  a  regular  and 
smooth  forehead.  Her  garb  was  a  cool,  gray  serge, 
and,  a  miracle  here  in  this  desert,  it  was  touched  here 
and  there  with  immaculate  white,  how,  after  that 
cruel  ninety  miles,  none  but  a  woman  might  tell.  A 
cool,  gray  veil  was  rolled  about  her  hatbrim.  Her 
hands,  shapely  and  good,  were  gloved  in  gray.  Her 
foot,  trim  and  well  shaped,  —  for  even  a  desolate 
pariah  might  note  so  much,  —  was  shod  in  no  ultra 
fashion,  but  in  good  feminine  gear  with  high  and 
girlish  heels,  all  unsuited  to  gravel  and  slide-rock,  yet 
exceeding  good,  as  it  seemed  at  that  time.  The  girl 
raised  her  eyes,  smiling  frankly.  There  was  no  cold 
cream  traceable.    The  first  thought  of  Learned  Com> 


HEART'S  DESIRE  83 

sel  was  that  her  complexion  would  brown  nicely  under 
sunburn;  his  second  thought  was  that  he  had  on  over- 
alls, —  a  fact  which  had  escaped  him  for  more  than 
four  years. 

If  Eve,  new  come  within  Heart's  Desire,  felt  any 
surprise,  or  if  she  even  experienced  any  pique  at  the 
calm  deportment  of  Dan  Anderson,  she  masked  it 
all  and  put  all  at  ease  with  a  few  words  spoken 
in  that  manner  of  voice  which  is  an  excellent  thing  in 
woman.  In  a  sort  of  dream  the  coach  trundled  on 
up]  the  street,  to  pause  for  half  an  instant  in  front 
of  the  commercial  emporium  of  Whiteman  the  Jew. 
Whiteman  came  out  with  his  hat  above  his  head,  and 
said,  "Velgome." 

The  girl  looked  backward  down  the  street  as  they 
turned  to  cross  the  arroyo  beyond  which  stood  the 
house  of  the  Kansas  family,  where  Curly  lived.  The 
off  mule  limped.  "Poor  little  fellow,"  she  said;  "I 
wanted  them  to  stop.    They  have  no  pity — " 

"No,"  said  Learned  Counsel  to  her,  "there  is  no 
such  thing  as  pity  in  all  the  world."  She  fell  silent 
at  this,  and  looked  back  once  more,  unconsciously, 
down  the  street,  as  one  who  would  gladly  pity,  or  be 
pitied.  But  soon  the  coach  was  at  Curly 's  house,  and 
there  came  out  to  meet  it,  already  forewarned  of  her 
guest,  the  Littlest  Girl,  wiping  her  hands  on  her  apron, 
which  means  Welcome  on  the  frontier. 

The  Littlest  Girl,  uncertain  and  overawed  by  her 
visitor,  came  forward  and  took  a  first  look.    Then 


84  HEART'S  DESIRE 

she  suddenly  held  out  her  arms ;  and  Constance 
Ellsworth,  from  the  East,  lonely,  perhaps  grieved, 
walked  straight  into  the  outstretched  arms  and 
straight  into  the  heart  of  the  Littlest  Girl  from 
Kansas. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TEMPTATION  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Showing  how  Paradise  was  lost  through  the  Strange 
Performance  of  a  Craven  Adam 

The  hotel  of  Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  to  which  Dan 
Anderson  led  Mr.  Ellsworth,  was  a  long,  low  adobe, 
earthen  roofed.  The  window-panes  were  very  small, 
where  any  still  remained.  The  interior  of  the  hotel 
consisted  of  a  long  dining  room,  a  kitchen,  a  room 
where  Uncle  Jim  slept,  and  a  very  few  other  rooms, 
guest  chambers  where  any  man  might  rest  if  very 
weary  from  one  cause  or  another.  The  front  door 
was  always  open.  The  hotel  of  Uncle  Jim  Brothers, 
not  being  civilized  but  utterly  barbaric,  was  anchor- 
age for  the  Dead  Broke,  in  a  way  both  hotel  and 
bank. 

There  was  in  Heart's  Desire,  at  least  before  this 
coming  of  Eastern  Capital,  only  three  hundred  dollars 
in  the  total  and  combined  circulating  medium.  Thfct 
was  all  the  money  there  was.  No  one  could  be  richer 
than  three  hundred  dollars,  for  that  was  the  limit  of 
all  wealth,  as  was  very  well  known.  To  many  this 
may  seem  a  restricting  and  narrowing  feature;  but, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  three  hundred  dollars  is  not  only 

85 


86  HEART'S  DESIRE 

plenty  of  money  for  one  man  to  have,  but  it  is  plenty 
for  a  whole  town  to  have,  as  any  man  of  Heart's 
Desire  could  have  told  you. 

A  stranger  dropping  into  that  hostelry,  and  tak- 
ing a  glance  behind  the  front  door,  might  have 
thought  that  he  was  in  an  armory  or  some  place 
devoted  to  the  sale  of  firearms.  There  were  many 
nails  driven  into  the  wooden  window-facings,  the 
door-jambs,  and  elsewhere,  and  all  these  nails  held 
specimens  of  weapons.  Excellent  weapons  they  were, 
too,  as  good  and  smooth-running  six-shooters  as  ever 
came  out  of  Colt's  factory;  and  Winchesters  which, 
if  they  showed  fore-ends  bruised  by  saddle-tree  and 
stocks  dented  by  rough  use  among  the  hills,  none  the 
less  were  very  clean  about  the  barrels  and  the  locks. 
At  times  there  were  dozens  of  these  guns  and  rifles  to 
be  seen  on  the  wall  at  Uncle  Jim's  hotel.  The  visible 
supply  fluctuated  somewhat.  Any  observer  of  indus- 
trial economics  might  have  discovered  it  to  move  up 
or  down  in  unison  with  the  current  amount  visible 
of  the  circulating  medium. 

Uncle  Jim  never  asked  cash  or  security  of  any  man. 
If  a  man  paid,  very  well.  If  he  did  not  pay,  it 
would  have  been  unkind  to  ask  him,  for  assuredly 
he  would  have  paid  if  he  could,  as  Uncle  Jim  very 
well  knew.  And  if  he  could  not  pay,  none  the  less  he 
needed  to  eat,  as  Uncle  Jim  also  knew  very  well. 
There  were  no  printed  rules  or  regulations  in  Uncle 
Jim's  hotel.    There  was  no  hotel  register.    There 


HEART'S  DESIRE  87 

were  no  questions  ever  asked.  Uncle  Jim  felt  that 
his  mission,  his  duty,  was  to  feed  men.  For  the  rest, 
he  often  had  to  do  his  own  cooking,  for  Mexicans  are 
very  undependable ;  and  if  a  man  is  busy  in  the 
kitchen,  how  can  he  attend  to  the  desk?  Indeed, 
there  was  no  desk.  The  front  door  was  always  open, 
the  tables  were  always  spread. 

That  any  man  should  take  advantage  of  this  state 
of  affairs  was  something  never  dreamed  in  Heart's 
Desire.  Yet  one  day  a  sensitive  young  man,  fresh 
from  the  States,  who  had  blundered,  God  knows  how, 
down  into  Heart's  Desire,  and  who  was  at  that  time 
reduced  to  a  blue  shirt,  a  pair  of  overalls,  one  law 
book,  one  six-shooter,  and  one  dime,  slipped  into  the 
hotel  of  Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  since  by  that  time  he 
was  very  hungry.  He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bench 
and  dared  not  ask  for  food ;  yet  his  eyes  spoke  clearly 
enough  for  Uncle  Jim.  The  latter  said  naught,  but 
presently  returned  with  a  large  beefsteak  which  actu- 
ally sputtered  and  frizzled  with  butter,  a  thing  un- 
dreamed! "Get  'round  this,"  said  Uncle  Jim,  "and 
you'll  feel  better."  The  young  man  "got  'round"  the 
beefsteak.  Perhaps  it  was  the  feeling  about  the 
butter,  which  of  itself  was  a  thing  unusual.  At  any 
rate,  as  he  went  out,  he  quietly  hung  up  his  six- 
shooter  behind  the  door.  This  act  meant,  of  course, 
that  for  the  time  he  was  legally  dead;  he  no  longer 
existed.  The  six-shooter  hung  there  for  nearly  four 
months,  and  Uncle  Jim  said  nothing  of  pay,  and  the 


88  HEART'S  DESIRE 

meals  were  regular  and  good.  The  intention  of  every 
man  in  that  little  valley  to  do  "  about  what  was 
right"  was  silently  and  fully  evidenced.  That  a  man 
would  give  up  his  gun  was  proof  enough  of  that.  So 
this  became  the  custom  of  the  place,  the  unwritten 
law.  When  by  any  chance  a  man  got  hold  of  enough 
of  the  three  hundred  dollars  to  settle  his  bill  with 
Uncle  Jim,  he  walked  in,  handed  over  the  cash,  and 
without  comment  of  his  own  or  of  any  one  else,  took 
down  his  gun  from  behind  the  door,  and  then  walked 
off  down  the  street  with  his  head  and  his  chest  much 
higher  in  the  air.  It  is  astonishing  how  much  busi- 
ness, how  much  safe  and  valid  business,  can  be  done 
in  a  community  with  three  hundred  dollars  and  a 
good  general  supply  of  six-shooters. 

On  this  particular  day  in  question,  thanks  to  cer- 
tain pernicious  activity  of  Johnny  Hudgens,  junior 
partner  at  the  Lone  Star,  on  the  night  previous, 
nearly  all  the  six-shooters  of  Heart's  Desire  were 
hanging  behind  the  door  of  Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  pend- 
ing the  arrival  of  better  days.  The  financial  situa- 
tion stood  thus :  Johnny  Hudgens  had  all  the  three 
hundred  dollars,  and  Uncle  Jim  Brothers  had  all  the 
guns.  Temporarily,  male  Heart's  Desire  did  not 
exist. 

Certainly,  there  could  have  been  no  time  more 
unhappy  than  this  to  display  the  charms  of  the  com- 
munity to  the  critical  eyes  of  the  man  who  —  as  the 
rapid  word  spread  to  all  —  had  come  to  look  into 


AS    HE    WKNT    OUT,    HE    QUIETLY    HUNG    UP    HIS    SIX-SHOOTER    BEHIND 
THE   DOOR." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  89 

the  gold-mines  on  Baxter  side  of  the  valley,  and  the 
new  coal-fields  up  Patos  way;  and  who,  moreover, 
so  said  swift  rumor,  was  the  real  head  and  front 
of  the  railroad  heading  northward  from  El  Paso! 
Humiliated,  Heart's  Desire  stepped  aside  and  let 
its  chosen  representative,  Dan  Anderson,  do  the 
talking. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  a  militia  company  here, 
Mr.  Anderson,"  said  Ellsworth,  as  they  entered  Uncle 
Jim's  hotel.  "Lately  organized?"  He  swept  an 
inquiring  hand  toward  the  array  behind  the  door. 

"That?  Oh,  that's  not  the  arsenal,"  replied  Dan 
Anderson;  "that's  the  clearing-house.  If  a  man's 
broke,  he  just  hangs  up  his  gun,  you  know.  I  don't 
know  that  I  can  just  explain  everything  in  this  coun- 
try to  you  right  at  once,  sir.  You  see,  it's  different. 
Now,  out  here,  a  six-shooter  is  part  of  a  man's  clothes. 
That's  why  the  fellows  stay  out.  They're  ashamed 
—  don't  feel  properly  dressed,  you  know." 

"Not  much  law  and  order,  eh?" 

"Not  much  law,  but  plenty  of  order,  and  not  the 
least  pretence  about  it." 

"The  courts—" 

"No  courts  at  all,  or  at  least  within  sixty  miles. 
Why,  we  haven't  even  a  town  organization  —  not  a 
town  officer.  There  was  never  even  a  town-site  plat 
filed." 

Mr.  Ellsworth  turned  on  him  suddenly.  "Where's 
your  titles?"  he  asked. 


90  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"We  haven't  needed  any,  so  far.  Now  that  you've 
come,  with  talk  of  a  railroad  and  all  that  — " 

"Oh,  well,  you  know,  that's  just  talk.  I'm  not 
responsible  for  that." 

"I  hope  you  like  canned  tomatoes,"  said  Dan 
Anderson,  "or,  if  you  don't,  that  you're  very  fond  of 
beefsteak.  There  won't  be  much  else  till  Tom  Osby 
gets  back  from  Las  Vegas  with  a  load  of  freight. 
Tom  Osby's  our  common  carrier.  I  hope  the  new 
railroad  will  do  as  well." 

Mr.  Ellsworth  was  a  gentleman,  and  a  very  hungry 
one,  so  there  was  no  quarrel  over  the  tomatoes,  which 
were  Special  XXX,  nor  over  the  beefsteak,  which 
might  have  been  worse.  An  hour  later  he  went  out 
on  the  street  with  his  host,  whose  conduct  thus  far, 
he  was  forced  to  admit,  had  been  irreproachable. 
They  strolled  up  the  rambling  street,  past  many  strag- 
gling buildings,  and  at  length  paused  before  the  little 
building,  made  of  sun-dried  brick,  and  plastered  with 
mud,  where  Dan  Anderson  had  his  residence  and  his 
law  office. 

"You'll  excuse  me,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  said  that  young 
gentleman,  "for  bringing  you  here,  but  the  truth  is  I 
thought  you  might  be  thirsty  and  might  get  poisoned. 
You  have  to  do  these  things  gradually,  till  you  get 
immune.  Now,  under  my  bed,  I've  got  a  bottle 
which  never  has  been  opened  and  which  ought  to 
be  safe.  I  don't  bother  corks  a  great  deal,  only 
when  we  are  welcoming  distinguished  guests." 


HEA&TS  DESIRE  91 

"It's  just  a  little  soon  after  dinner/'  demurred 
Ellsworth,  "but,  ahem!  That  dust  —  yes,  I  believe 
I  will." 

There  was  a  dignity  about  Dan  Anderson  now  which 
left  Ellsworth  distinctly  uncomfortable.  The  latter 
felt  himself  in  some  fashion  at  a  disadvantage  before 
this  penniless  adventurer,  this  young  man  whom 
once  he  had  not  cared  to  have  as  a  regular  visitor  at 
his  own  home  back  in  the  far-off  East. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,  young  man,"  he 
spoke  after  a  long  period  of  silence,  "that  this  is  the 
way  you  live?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "I  know  I'm 
extravagant.  I  don't  need  a  place  as  good  as  this, 
but  I  always  was  sort  of  sensuous,  you  know."  Ells- 
worth looked  at  him  without  any  comprehension, 
from  him  to  the  bed  with  blankets,  and  the  bare 
table.  "Come  in,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "and  sit 
down.  Better  sit  on  the  chair,  I  reckon.  One  leg 
of  the  bed  is  sort  of  dicky." 

"So  this  is  the  way  you  live?"  repeated  Ellsworth 
to  Dan  Anderson,  who  was  now  on  his  hands  and 
knees  and  searching  under  the  bed.  "Now,  about 
my  daughter  —  is  there  any  hotel  —  are  there  any 
women?" 

"  Three,  from  Kansas,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "  That 
is,  three  real  ones.  All  the  female  earth,  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, comes  from  Kansas,  same  as  all  the  baled 
hay.    Oh,  yes,  here  she  is ! " 


92  HEART'S  DESIRE 

He  had  been  speaking  with  his  voice  somewhat 
muffled  under  the  bed,  but  now  emerged,  bearing  a 
dusty  bottle  in  his  hand. 

Mr.  Ellsworth  looked  at  him  a  bit  keenly;  for, 
after  all,  he  was  not  a  bad  judge  of  men.  "How 
long  has  that  bottle  been  there?"  asked  he,  abruptly. 

"Oh,  a  couple  of  years,  maybe." 

"And  you've  never  opened  it?" 

"No,  why  should  I?  You  hadn't  come  yet.  Of 
course,  I  knew  you'd  be  along  some  day.  I  kept  it  to 
drink  to  your  very  good  health,  Mr.  Ellsworth  — 
the  health  of  the  man  who  told  me  not  to  come  around 
his  house  —  told  me  I  was  an  unsettled  ne'er-do-well, 
and  not  suitable  company  for  his  —  why,  I  don't 
think  I  have  any  corkscrew  at  all."  His  voice  was 
slow,  but  harder  now  in  quality. 

Ellsworth  sat  on  the  chair,  the  bottle  in  his  hand 
hanging  between  his  knees.  He  looked  at  Dan 
Anderson  steadily.  "You've  got  me  guessing  in  a 
good  many  ways,"  he  said;  "I  don't  know  why  you 
came  here  —  " 

"No?" 

"Nor  how  you  live,  nor  what  encouragement  or 
prospects  you  find  here.  For  instance,  about  how 
much  did  you  make  last  year  in  your  business?" 

"My  law  practice?  Oh,  you  mean  down  at  the 
county-seat?  There  is  no  law  court  here.  How 
much  did  the  boys  pay  me?" 

"Yes." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  93 

"Two  hundred  and  sixty-eight  dollars  and  seventy- 
five  cents." 

"What?" 

"Oh,  I  know  it's  a  heap  of  money;  but  I  made  it." 

"Enough  for  tobacco  money!" 

"Sir,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "more.  I  ate  frequent. 
Why,  sir,  did  you  ever  stop  to  think  that  our  total 
circulating  medium  here  is  only  three  hundred  dollars? 
I  had  almost  all  of  it  one  time  or  another.  Now, 
not  doubting  your  intentions  in  the  least,  did  you 
ever  come  that  near  to  corralling  the  whole  visible 
supply  of  cash  in  your  own  town?  Moreover,  I  am 
attorney  for  the  men  who  own  the  coal-mines.  I'm 
the  lawyer  for  both  the  gold  mills.  We've  got  one 
or  two  mines  here,  and  I'm  in.  Besides,  I've  just 
got  the  law  business  from  Pitzer  Chisum,  down  on 
the  Seven  Rivers.  He's  got  maybe  a  hundred 
thousand  head  of  cattle.  Now,  I'm  going  to  rob 
Pitzer,  because  he  needs  it.  He's  got  money 
scandalous." 

Mr.  Ellsworth  put  the  bottle  down  on  the  floor, 
and  sat  up  on  the  chair  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
wondering.  "But  why?"  he  demanded  sternly, 
"why?  What  are  you  doing  out  here?  Why  have 
you  thrown  away  your  life  ?  Come  —  you're  a 
bright  young  man,  and  you  —  " 

"Friend,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  with  a  sudden  cold 
quality  in  his  voice,  "I  think  that'll  about  do.  I  am 
no  brighter  than  I  was  a  few  years  ago." 


94  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"But  this  is  no  place  to  live." 

"Why  isn't  it?  It  takes  a  man  to  live  here.  Do 
you  reckon  you  could  qualify?"  The  older  man 
raised  his  head  with  a  snort,  but  Dan  Anderson  stood 
looking  at  him  calmly.  "Now  let  me  tell  you  one 
thing,"  said  he.  "If  you  heard  of  our  coal-mines 
here  through  me,  at  least  I  didn't  ask  you  to  come 
out  here,  and  I  didn't  ask  you  to  bring  anybody 
along  with  you.  I've  played  fair  with  you.  You 
don't  come  here  to  do  me  any  favor,  do  you?" 

"Oh,  well,"  —  began  the  other. 

"Then  you  think  there  might  be  something  here, 
after  all?" 

"What  is  there  here?" 

"A  very  great  deal.  There's  just  as  much  here  as 
there  is  anywhere  else  in  the  world." 

Mr.  Ellsworth  arose  and  stepped  to  the  door.  For 
a  moment  he  stood  looking  out  at  the  twilight.  He 
turned  suddenly  to  the  young  man.  "I'll  tell  you," 
said  he.  "There's  something  to  you  —  I  don't 
know  what.  Drop  all  this.  Come  on  back.  I'll 
think  it  over  —  I'll  give  you  a  place  in  my  office." 

"You'd  give  me  what ?  Did  you  ever  stop  to  think 
that  you  can't  give  me  anything?" 

Surprise  sat  on  his  visitor's  face.  "Nada!"  cried 
Dan  Anderson.  "Me  go  back  there  and  work  on  a 
salary  for  you?  Me  check  my  immortal  soul  on 
your  hat-rack?  Me  live  scared  of  my  life,  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  slaves  in  that  infernal  system  of  living, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  95 

that  hell?  If  I  should  do  that,  I'd  be  giving  you 
some  license  for  the  opinion  of  me  you  once  expressed, 
before  you  really  knew  me." 

"But  what  have  you  got  out  here?"  repeated  the 
other,  stupidly. 

Dan  Anderson  made  no  answer,  except  a  sweep  of 
his  hand  to  the  mountains,  and  an  unconscious  swell 
of  the  broad  chest  beneath  his  blue  shirt. 

"What  made  you  come?"  insisted  Mr.  Ellsworth, 
feeling  around  for  the  neck  of  the  bottle,  which  had 
been  forgotten. 

"You  know  almighty  well  why  I  came.  But  let 
that  go.  Let's  say  I  came  for  the  express  purpose 
of  handling  your  local  interests  when  you  buy  our 
coal-mines  and  try  to  get  a  railroad  somewhere  near 
our  valley  if  you  have  luck  later.  I'm  going  to  be 
your  kind  and  loving  partner  in  that  deal,  and  I'll 
soak  you  the  limit  in  everything  I  do  for  you.  You 
watch  me.  I'm  going  to  stay  here,  and  I'm  going 
to  work  all  I  want  to.  When  I  don't  want  to,  there 
isn't  any  living  mortal  soul  that's  going  to  crack  a 
whip  over  me  and  tell  me  I've  got  to." 

"Things  seem  rather  strange,"  began  Mr.  Ells- 
worth. "You  talk  as  though  I  were  obliged  to  put 
money  into  these  mines." 

"Of  course  you  will.  You  can't  help  it.  You 
never  saw  a  better  opportunity  for  investment  in 
all  your  life.  But  now  let  me  tell  you  another 
thing,  which  I  oughtn't  to  tell  you  if  I  served  you 


96  HEART'S  DESIRE 

right.  You  go  slow  while  you're  here.  There  is 
plenty  of  gold  in  this  valley.  There  isn't  a  fellow 
in  this  settlement  who  hasn't  got  a  quart  glass  fruit- 
jar  full  of  gold  nuggets  and  dust  under  his  bed,  and 
who  isn't  just  waiting  and  pining  to  show  it  to  some 
stranger  like  yourself.  You're  Glad  Tidings  in  this 
town.  You  couldn't  walk  to-morrow  if  you  took  all 
the  free  samples  of  solid  gold  the  boys  would  offer 
you.  You'd  get  dizzy  looking  down  prospect  holes. 
You  wouldn't  know  where  you  were;  and  when  you 
came  to,  you'd  own  about  fifty  gold-mines,  with  all 
the  dips,  spurs,  and  angles,  and  all  the  variations  of 
the  magnetic  needle  to  wit  and  aforesaid.  Now,  I 
oughtn't  to  take  care  of  you.  I  don't  owe  you  a 
thing  on  earth.  But  because  you  brought  —  well,  be- 
cause —  anyhow,  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  you,  while 
you're  here,  and  see  that  you  get  a  square  deal." 

"By  the  way,  my  daughter  — "  said  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, sitting  up  uneasily. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  gently.  "Miss 
Constance  is  all  right.  They'll  take  care  of  her  just 
as  well  as  I'll  take  care  of  you.  Everybody  will  be 
more  sociable  by  about  noon  to-morrow.  The  whole 
town's  scared  yet." 

"I  don't  see  anything  very  terrible  about  me," 
said  Mr.  Ellsworth. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  you,''1  said  Dan  Anderson,  calmly. 
"Nobody's  afraid  of  you.  It's  your  daughter  — 
it's  the  woman.     Don't  you  reckon  Adam  was  about 


HEARTS  DESIRE  97 

the  scaredest  thing  in  the  wide,  wide  world  about  the 
time  old  Ma  Eve  set  up  her  bakeshop  under  the 
spreading  fig  tree?  I  don't  know  that  I  make  my- 
self right  plain  —  you  see,  it's  sort  of  funny  here. 
We  aren't  used  to  women  any  more." 

"Oh,  well,  now,  my  dear  sir,  you  see,  my 
daughter  —  " 

"I  know  all  about  her,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  sharply. 
"I  don't  doubt  she  thought  I  was  a  mere  trifler. 
She  couldn't  understand  that  it  isn't  right  for  a  man 
to  stick  to  anything  until  he's  found  the  right  thing 
to  stick  to.  I  don't  blame  her  the  least  bit  in  the 
world.  She  could  only  see  what  I  wasn't  doing. 
I  knew  what  I  was  going  to  do,  and  I  know  it  now." 
There  was  a  gravity  and  certainty  about  Dan  Ander- 
son now  that  went  through  the  self-consciousness 
of  the  man  before  him.  Ellsworth  looked  at  him 
intently.  "We'll  be  here  for  a  day  or  so,"  said  he, 
"and  meantime,  it  will  seem  a  little  strange  for  my 
daughter,  I  suppose  —  " 

"You  don't  need  to  tell  me  about  anything,"  said 
Dan  Anderson.  "Of  course,  her  coming  is  a  little 
inopportune.  You  see,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  the  morning 
stars  are  inopportune,  and  the  sunrise  every  day,  and 
the  dew  of  heaven." 

Ellsworth  looked  at  him  half  in  terror,  and  in  his 
discomfort  murmured  something  about  going  to 
look  up  his  daughter. 

"Now,   that's   mighty   kind   of  you,"    said   Dan 


98  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Anderson.  "But  I  know  the  way  over  there  alone, 
and  after  I  have  taken  you  back  to  Uncle  Jim's,  I 
am  going  over  there  —  alone.  Wait  till  I  get  my 
coat.  I  don't  wear  it  very  often,  but  we'll  just 
show  you  that  we  can  dress  up  for  the  evening  here, 
the  same  as  they  do  in  the  States." 

As  Dan  Anderson,  his  head  bent  down  and  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  crossed  the  arroyo  alone,  he 
met  Curly  coming  the  other  way.  Curly's  brow  was 
wrinkled,  though  he  expressed  a  certain  conscious- 
ness of  the  importance  of  his  position  in  society  at 
the  time. 

"Say,  man,"  said  he,  jerking  his  thumb  toward 
the  house,  "that  new  girl  is  the  absolute  limit.  She 
dropped  in  just  like  we'd  been  expectin'  her.  I  was 
some  scared;  but  she's  just  folks!" 

Dan  Anderson  hardly  heard  him.  He  passed  on 
into  the  house,  where  he  had  long  ago  made  himself 
easily  at  home  with  the  women  of  the  place.  It 
was  a  half  hour  later  that  he  spoke  directly  to  the 
girl..  "I  was  just  thinking,"  said  he,  "that  after 
all  the  dust  and  heat  and  everything  you  might  like 
to  walk,  for  just  a  minute  or  so,  over  to  our  city 
park.  Foliage,  you  know;  avenues,  flowers;  sweet- 
ness and  light." 

She  looked  at  the  man  quietly,  as  if  she  failed 
to  understand  the  half-cynical  bitterness,  the  half- 
wistfulness  in  his  voice,  yet  she  rose  and  joined  him. 
All  human  beings  in  Heart's  Desire  that  evening  felj 


HEART'S  DESIRE  99 

in  with  the  plans  of  Dan  Anderson  without  cavil  and 
without  possible  resistance. 

A  short  distance  up  the  arroyo,  toward  the  old 
abandoned  stamp  mill,  there  was  a  two-inch  pipe 
of  water  which  came  down  from  the  Patos  spring, 
far  up  on  the  mountain  side.  At  the  end  of  this  pipe, 
where  the  water  was  now  going  to  waste,  the  Littlest 
Girl  from  Kansas  had  taken  in  charge  the  precious 
flow,  and  proposed  a  tiny  garden  of  her  own.  Here 
there  were  divers  shrubs,  among  these  a  single  rose 
bush,  now  blossomless.  Dan  Anderson  broke  off  a 
leafy  twig  or  so,  and  handed  them  to  Constance, 
who  pinned  them  on  her  breast. 

"This  is  our  park,"  said  he,  very  gravely;  "I  hope 
you  have  enjoyed  your  stroll  along  the  boulevard.  I 
hope,  also,  that  the  entertainment  of  the  cow  gentle- 
man was  not  displeasing." 

"Not  a  word!"  she  answered,  her  cheek  flush- 
ing ;  "  you  shall  not  rail  at  them.  These  people  are 
genuine." 

"I'm  not  apologizing,"  he  said  quickly;  "there 
are  just  a  few  things  a  fellow  learns  out  here.  One 
is  not  to  apologize;  and  another  is  not  to  beg.  Sit 
down."  There  were  two  white  boulders  beside 
which  the  trickle  of  water  rippled.  Obeying  him, 
she  seated  herself.  Presently  Dan  Anderson  settled 
himself  upon  the  other,  and  for  a  time  they  sat  in 
silence.  The  purple  shadows  had  long  ago  deepened 
into  half  darkness,  and  as  they  looked  up  above 


100  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  long,  slow  curve  of  old  Carrizo,  there  rose  the 
burnished  silver  of  the  wondrous  moon  of  Heart's 
Desire.  The  bare  and  barren  valley  was  softened 
and  glorified  into  a  strange,  half-ghostly  beauty. 
The  earth  has  few  scenes  more  beautiful  than  Heart's 
Desire  at  moonlight.  These  two  sat  and  gazed  for 
a  time. 

"And  so  this  is  your  world!"  the  girl  spoke  at 
length,  more  to  herself  than  to  him. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  almost  savagely,  sweeping  his 
hand  toward  the  mountain-rimmed  horizon.  "Yes, 
it's  mine." 

"It  is  very  beautiful,"  she  murmured  softly. 

"Yes,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "it's  beautiful.  Some 
time  there'll  be  a  man  who'll  learn  something  in  such 
a  place  as  this.  I  don't  know  but  I've  learned  a 
little  bit  myself  in  the  last  few  years." 

"The  years !"  she  whispered  to  herself. 

"It  seems  forever,"  said  he.  "The  time  when  a 
fellow's  taking  his  medicine  always  seems  long,  I 
reckon.  I  have  almost  forgotten  my  life  of  five 
years  ago  —  almost,  except  a  part  of  it.  It's  been 
another  world  here.  Nothing  matters  much,  does 
it?" 

Whether  there  was  now  bitterness  or  softness  in 
his  speech  she  could  not  tell,  but  she  found  no 
reproach  for  herself  in  word  or  tone. 

"Look,"  said  she  at  length,  pointing  down  at 
the  valley  of   Heart's   Desire,  now  bathed   in   the 


HEART'S  DESIRE  101 

full  flood  of  the  unveiled  moonlight.  "  I^ook !  It 
is  unspeakable." 

He  looked  at  her  face  instead.  "I've  seen  you 
right  here,"  he  said,  "right  at  this  very  place,  a 
thousand  times.  It's  Eden.  It's  the  Garden.  It's 
the  Beginning." 

"It  is  the  world,"  she  whispered  vaguely. 

"Yes,  yes  —  "  Words  burst  from  his  lips  beyond 
his  power  to  control.  "It  is  Eden,  it  is  Paradise, 
but  a  vacant  Eden,  a  Paradise  incomplete.  Con- 
stance —  " 

The  girl  felt  herself  shiver  at  this  sound  of  a  voice 
which  all  too  often  these  past  five  years  had  come 
to  her  unbidden  when  she  found  moments  of  self- 
communion  in  her  own  restless  and  dissatisfied  life. 
Walls  had  not  shut  it  out,  music  had  not  drowned  it, 
gayety  had  not  served  to  banish  it.  She  had  heard 
it  in  her  subjective  soul  oft  times  when  the  shadows 
fell  and  the  firelight  flickered.  Now,  beneath  a 
limitless  sky,  under  a  strange  radiance,  in  a  wild 
primeval  world  —  in  this  Eden  which  they  two  alone 
occupied  —  she  heard  him,  the  man  whom  in  her 
heart  she  loved,  speaking  to  her  once  more  in  very 
person,  and  speaking  that  very  thought  which  wa,s  in 
her  own  heart  that  hour.  Her  bosom  rose  tumultu- 
ously,  her  throat  fluttered.  Instinctively  she  would 
have  fled,  but  a  hand  on  her  shoulder  pressed  her 
back  as  she  would  have  arisen,  and  she  obeyed  —  as 
she  had  always  obeyed  him  —  as  she  always  would. 


102  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Paradise  unfinished  —  "  he  whispered,  his  face 
close  to  hers.     "  You  know  what  it  is  that's  missing." 

Ah !  could  not  a  woman  also  know  the  longing, 
the  vacancy,  the  solitude  of  an  Eden  incomplete ! 
She  turned  to  him  trembling,  her  lips  half  open,  as 
though  to  welcome  a  long-hoped-for  draught  of 
happiness. 

Alas !  it  was  not  happiness,  but  misery  that  came; 
for  Constance  Ellsworth  now  got  taste  of  those  bitter 
waters  of  life  which  are  withheld  from  none.  There 
was  a  sound  of  a  distant  shout  —  the  chance  call  of 
some  drunken  reveller — far  down  the  street,  a  tawdry, 
unimportant  incident,  but  enough  to  break  a  spell, 
to  destroy  an  illusion,  to  awaken  a  conscience  for  a 
man,  if  that  phrase  be  just.  Dan  Anderson  turned 
to  look  down  the  long  street  of  Heart's  Desire.  It 
was  as  though  the  physical  act  restored  him  to 
another  realm,  another  mental  world.  He  started, 
and  half  shivered  as  his  hand  dropped  to  his  side. 
His  face  showed  haggard  even  in  the  moonlight. 

"My  God!  what  am  I  saying?"  he  murmured  to 
himself. 

Then  presently  he  drew  himself  up,  smiling  bitterly. 
"Some  prominent  citizens  of  the  place  enjoying  them- 
selves," he  said  and  nodded  toward  the  street. 
"Don't  you  think  you'd  like  Heart's  Desire?" 

The  moment  of  Eve  —  the  woman's  moment  — 
the  instant  for  her  happiness  was  past  and  gone! 
The  light  of  the  moon  lay  ghostly  over  all  the  world, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  103 

but  there  was  no  radiance,  no  joy  nor  comfort  in  it 
now. 

The  girl  herself  was  silent.  She  sat  looking  out 
over  the  street  below,  instinctively  following  Dan 
Anderson's  gaze.  Voices  came  to  them,  clamorous, 
strident,  coarse.  There  lay  revealed  all  that  was 
crude,  all  that  was  savage,  all  that  was  unlovable 
and  impossible  of  Heart's  Desire.  It  had  been  a 
dream,  but  it  was  a  man's  dream  in  which  he  had 
lived.  For  a  woman  —  for  her  —  for  this  sweet 
girl  of  a  gentler  world,  that  dream  could  be  nothing 
else  than  hideous.  "Be  just!  Be  fair!"  Dan 
Anderson's  soul  demanded  of  him;  and  as  best  he 
saw  justice  and  fairness  to  the  woman  he  loved  he 
answered  for  himself. 

"Come,"  said  the  girl,  gently,  rousing  herself  from 
the  lassitude  which  suddenly  assailed  her,  "we  must 
go  in." 

His  face  was  averted  as  he  walked  beside  her. 
There  was  no  word  that  he  could  say.  Accord  being 
gone  from  all  the  universe,  he  could  not  know  that 
in  her  heart,  humbled  and  shamed  as  it  was,  she 
understood  and  in  some  part  forgave. 

"It  has  been  very  beautiful  to-night,"  she  said, 
as  he  turned  back  at  length  from  the  door  of  Curly's 
house. 

Choking,  he  left  her.  As  he  stumbled  blindly 
back,  over  the  arroyo,  there  crossed  on  the  heavens 
the  long  red  line  of  a  shooting  star.    Dully  he  watched 


104  HEART'S  DESIRE 

it,  and  for  him  it  was  the  flaming  sword  barring  the 
gates  of  Eden. 

Hours  later  —  for  sleep  was  not  for  him  —  Dan 
Anderson  stood  waiting  for  the  sun  to  rise  over  old 
Carrizo.  Far  off,  along  the  pathway  of  the  morn,  lay 
his  former  home,  the  States,  the  East,  the  fight, 
the  combat,  and  the  grovelling.  "  No,  not  for  me ;  not 
there !"  he  said,  conviction  coming  to  him  once  more. 

He  turned  then  and  glanced  down  the  single  street 
of  Heart's  Desire,  a  street  as  straggling  and  purpose- 
less as  his  own  misdirected  life  —  a  wavering  lane 
through  the  poor  habitations  of  a  Land  of  Oblivion. 
Longer  he  looked,  and  stronger  the  conviction  grew. 
"No,  no,"  he  said,  clenching  his  hand;  "not  here 
for  her  —  not  here !" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  CORPORATION  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

This  being  the  Story  of  a  Parrot,  Certain  Twins,  and  a 
Pair  of  Candy  Legs 

Time  wore  on  at  Heart's  Desire,  uncalendared 
and  unclocked.  The  sun  rose,  passed  through  a 
sky  impenetrably  blue,  and  sank  behind  Baxter 
Peak  at  evening.  These  were  the  main  eveDts  of 
the  day.  All  men  had  apparently  long  ago  forgotten 
the  departure  of  the  stage-coach  that  had  borne 
away  at  one  voyaging  both  Eve  and  Eastern  Capital. 
Eve  had  gone  forever,  as  she  supposed,  although 
Capital  secretly  knew  full  well  that  it,  at  least,  was 
coming  back  again. 

The  population  shifted  and  changed,  coming  and 
going,  as  was  the  wont  of  the  land,  but  none  ques- 
tioned the  man  booted  and  spurred  who  rode  out  of 
town  or  who  came  into  town.  Of  late,  however, 
certain  booted  and  bearded  men  wandered  afoot 
over  the  mountain  sides,  doing  strange  things  with 
strange  instruments.  A  railroad  was  about  to  cross 
the  country  somewhere.  Grave  and  moody,  Heart's 
Desire  sat  in  the  sun,  and  for  two  months  did  not 
mention  the  subject  which  weighed  upon  its  mind. 

105 


106  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Curly  broke  the  silence  one  morning  at  a  plebiscite 
of  four  men  who  gathered  to  bask  near  Whiteman's 
corral. 

"I  hit  the  trail  of  them  surveyors/'  said  he,  "other 
side  of  Lone  Mountain,  day  before  yestiday.  They've 
got  a  line  of  pegs  drove  in  the  ground.  Looks  like 
they  was  afraid  their  old  railroad  was  goin'  to  git 
lost  from  'em,  unless  they  picketed  it  out  right  strong." 

Reproachful  eyes  were  turned  on  Curly,  but  he 
went  on. 

"It's  goin'  to  run  right  between  Carrizoso  ranch 
and  the  mouth  of  our  canon,"  said  he.  "You'll 
have  to  cross  it  every  time  you  come  to  town,  McKin- 
ney.  When  she  gits  to  runnin'  right  free  and  general, 
there'll  be  a  double  row  of  cow  corpses  from  here  to 
Santa  Rosa.  What  this  here  new  railroad  is  a-goin' 
to  do  to  your  English  stockholders,  Mac,  is  a  deep 
and  abidin'  plenty." 

McKinney  made  no  reply,  but  looked  stolidly  out 
across  the  valley. 

"Them  fellers  come  up  into  town  for  tobacco,  Doc." 
Curly  threw  out  the  suggestion  cheerfully. 

"Tobacco  ain't  drugs,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson,  an- 
noyed. He  was  sensitive  about  allusions  to  his 
stock  of  drugs,  which  had  been  imported  some  years 
before,  and  under  a  misapprehension  as  to  Heart's 
Desire's  future. 

"We  might  shoot  up  the  surveyors,"  said  Curly, 
tentatively.     But  Dan  Anderson  shook  his  head. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  107 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  he  answered.  "We 
might  shoot  any  one  of  us  here,  and  the  world  wouldn't 
care.  But  if  we  shot  even  a  leg  off  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  them  States  folks  would  never  rest  content. 
For  me,  I'm  goin'  in  with  the  railroad.  Looks  like 
I'd  have  to  be  corporation  counsel." 

"Well,  I  reckon  we  won't  have  to  drive  our  cows 
quite  so  far  to  market,"  apologized  McKinney, 
striving  to  see  the  silver  lining. 

"Oh,  drop  it,"  snapped  Doc  Tomlinson.  "I  might 
as  well  say  I  could  get  in  my  drugs  easier.  Cows 
can  walk;  and  as  for  importin'  things,  everybody 
knows  that  Tom  Osby  can  haul  in  everything  that's 
needed  in  this  valley." 

The  members  of  the  plebiscite  fell  silent  for  a  time, 
willing  to  wait  for  Tom  Osby's  arrival,  whenever 
that  might  be. 

"Now,  we  ain't  downtrod  none  in  this  country," 
finally  began  Doc  Tomlinson,  who  had  made  political 
speeches  in  Kansas. 

"Is  anybody?"  asked  Curly,  who  had  never  lived 
anywhere  but  on  the  free  range. 

"We've  had  three  squares  a  day,"  said  McKinney. 
"This  country's  just  as  good  as  the  States." 

"States!"  cried  Dan  Anderson.  "We've  got  a 
state  of  our  own,  or  did  have,  right  here,  the  Free 
State  of  Heart's  Desire.  But  it  ain't  good  enough 
for  us.  We  want  to  hitch  our  little  wagon  to  the 
star  of  progress.    I  reckon  we  oughtn't  to  holler  if 


108  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  star  travels  some  fast.  It  was  ours,  the  Free 
State  of  Heart's  Desire !    And  we  —  well  —  " 

"Well,"  said  Curly,  ruminatingly,  "I  don't  see  as 
ole  Carrizo  is  frettin'  any  about  these  here  things." 
He  glanced  up  at  the  big  mountain  whose  shadow 
lay  athwart  the  valley.  Dan  Anderson  gazed  thither 
as  well.  McKinney  sat  looking  quietly  up  the 
street. 

"No  use  frettin'  about  it,  anyhow,"  said  he,  in  his 
matter-of-fact  way.  "And  as  to  Tom  Osby,  fellers, 
I'll  bet  a  plug  of  tobacco  that's  him  pullin'  in  at  the 
head  of  town  right  now." 

"Just  like  I  said,"  exclaimed  Doc  Tomlinson. 
"He's  good  enough  railroad  for  any  one,  and  he's 
safe!    I  wonder  what  did  he  bring  this  time." 

What  Tom  Osby  brought  this  time,  besides  sundry 
merchandise  for  Whiteman  the  Jew,  was  a  parrot  and 
a  pair  of  twins.  Neither  of  these  specialties  had 
ever  before  been  seen  in  Heart's  Desire. 

"Twins!"  exclaimed  Dan  Anderson,  when  the 
facts  were  divulged,  "and  a  parrot!" 

Tom  Osby,  after  making  known  the  full  nature  of 
his  cargo,  discharged  divers  boxes,  bales,  and  other 
packages  at  the  store  of  Whiteman  the  Jew.  The 
parrot  was  not  disposed  to  wait  for  the  close  of  these 
formalities.  From  under  the  white  cover  of  the 
wagon  there  came  sounds  of  profane  speech.  Tom 
Osby  paused  and  filled  his  pipe.  "Him?"  said  he, 
jerking  his  head  toward  the  cover,  as  he  scratched 


HEART'S  DESIRE  109 

a  match  on  the  side  of  the  wagon  seat.  "  He's  a  shore 
peach.    Talked  to  me  all  the  way  from  Vegas  down." 

"Quork!"  said  the  parrot.  "Look  out!  Look 
out !    Brrrrrrrr  —  awk  —  awk !    Quork ! " 

"I  told  you  so,"  said  Tom. 

"Oh,  dang  it,  I'm  tired !"  continued  the  bird. 

"This,"  remarked  Dan  Anderson,  "seems  to  be  a 
cultivated  gentleman.  But  how  about  the  twins? 
Where  are  they  ?  And  might  we  —  er  —  ask  whose 
are  they?" 

"Them?"  said  Tom.  "Why,  they're  for  Curly. 
They're  asleep  down  under  the  seat  here.  Now, 
between  the  parrot  and  them  twins,  my  trip  down 
ain't  been  any  lonesome  to  speak  of." 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  Curly,  the  newly  wedded 
cow  puncher,  who  blushed  a  bright  brick  red  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair.  "Wh — where  did  they  come 
from?"  stammered  he. 

"I  presume,  Curly,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  gravely, 
"like  enough  they  came  from  somewhere  over  on  the 
Brazos,  your  earlier  home.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
us  you  were  a  married  man?" 

"I  ain't  —  I  never  was!"  cried  Curly,  hotly.  "I 
never  did  have  no  twins  nowhere.  Where'd  you 
git 'em,  Tom?" 

The  freighter  threw  his  leg  across  the  seat.  "Oh, 
they're  yours  all  right,  I  reckon,  Curly,"  said  he. 
"Mother's  dead.  No  relations.  They  come  from 
Kansas,  where  all  the  twins  comes  from.    I  found 


110  HEART'S  DESIRE 

'em  waitin'  up  there  in  Vegas,  billed  through  to  you. 
Both  dead  broke,  both  plumb  happy,  and  airy  one  of 
'em  worth  its  weight  in  gold.  Its  name  is  Susabella 
and  Aryann,  or  somethin'  like  that.  Shall  I  wake 
it  up?    It's  both  alike." 

"Now,  why,  my  woman's  folks,"  began  Curly, 
"  up  there  in  Kansas  —  I  reckon  maybe  that's  how 
it  happened !  She  had  a  sister  done  married  a  Baptis' 
preacher,  onct.  Say,  now,  I  bet  a  horse  that's  right 
how  this  here  happened.  Say,  they  was  so  pore 
they  didn't  have  enough  to  eat." 

"Letter  come  with  'em,"  said  Tom,  taking  out  a 
handful  of  tobacco  from  his  pocket  with  the  missive. 
"I  reckon  that  explains  it.  I  wouldn't  take  a  thou- 
sand dollars  for  'em  if  they  was  mine.  Here,  you 
kids,  get  out  of  there  and  come  and  see  the  nice 
gentlemen.     Here  they  are,  fellers." 

He  haled  forth  from  beneath  the  wagon  cover  two 
solemn-eyed  and  sleepy  little  girls,  perhaps  five  years 
of  age,  and  of  so  close  a  personal  resemblance  to  each 
other  as  impressed  all  as  uncanny.  The  four  men 
stepped  to  the  wagon  side,  and  in  silence  gazed  at  the 
curly-headed  pair,  who  looked  back,  equally  silent, 
upon  the  strange  group  confronting  them.  At  length 
the  twins  buried  their  faces  in  Tom  Osby's  overalls. 

"Look  here,  friend,"  said  Tom  Osby  to  Curly, 
with  asperity,  "if  you  don't  want  these  here  twins, 
why,  I'll  take  'em  off  your  hands  mighty  damn  quick. 
They're  corral  broke  and  right  well  gentled  now, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  111 

half  good  stock  anyway,  and  is  due  to  be  right  free 
steppers.  If  you  don't  want  'em,  they're  mine  for 
the  board  bill." 

But  Curly  stepped  up  and  laid  an  awkward  hand 
on  the  head  of  each  of  the  twins.  "Fellers,"  said  he, 
"I  ain't  got  a  whole  lot  of  experience  in  this  here 
twin  game,  but  this  goes.  These  here  twins  is  mine. 
This  is  some  sudden,  but  I  expect  it'll  tickle  the  little 
woman  about  half  to  death.  I  reckon  I  can  get 
enough  for  'em  all  to  eat,  somehow." 

McKinney  looked  at  him  with  anger  in  his  gaze.  "I 
told  you,  Curly,"  he  reminded  the  cow  puncher 
with  undue  emphasis,  "that  you  was  drawin'  ten 
extry  from  day  before  yestiday.  I  reckon  the  stock- 
holders can  stand  that." 

"That'll  make  it  about  break  even,"  Curly  an- 
swered simply. 

"Now,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson,  "if  either  of  them 
twins  should  need  any  drugs  —  " 

"Drugs!"  snorted  Dan  Anderson.  "What  would 
they  want  with  drugs?  After  they've  run  around 
in  here  for  two  weeks,  you  couldn't  kill  'em  with  an 
axe.  If  the  coyotes  don't  catch  'em,  there's  nothing 
else  can  happen  to  'em." 

"I'll  give  you  about  eight  dollars  for  the  green 
canary,  Tom,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson.  "I  want  to 
hang  him  in  my  store." 

"But  I  want  to  hang  him  in  my  wagon,"  objected 
Tom   Osby.    "He's   company.    You   fellers   plumb 


112  HEART'S  DESIRE 

rob  me  every  time  I  come  to  town."    His  voice  was 
plaintive. 

"The  court  rules,"  observed  Dan  Anderson,  judi- 
cially, "that  the  parrot  goes  with  the  twins."  And 
it  was  finally  so  decided  by  the  referendum.  Where- 
upon Tom  Osby,  grumbling  and  bewailing  his  hard 
lot  as  common  carrier,  drove  off  with  Curly  across 
the  arroyo  in  search  of  a  new  mother  for  the  twins. 

The  Littlest  Girl,  Curly's  wife,  read  the  letter 
which  Tom  offered.  Tears  sprang  to  her  eyes;  and 
then,  as  might  have  been  expected  of  the  Littlest 
Girl,  she  reached  up  her  arms  to  the  homeless  waifs, 
who  stood  at  the  wagon  front,  each  clasping  a  stubby 
forefinger  of  Tom  Osby's  hand. 

"Babies!"  cried  she.  "You  poor  little  babies! 
Oh!"  And  so  she  gathered  them  to  her  breast  and 
bore  them  away,  even  though  a  curly  head  over  each 
shoulder  gazed  back  longingly  at  the  gnarled  freighter 
on  his  wagon  seat.  Tom  Osby  picked  up  his  reins 
and  drove  back  across  the  arroyo.  Thus,  without 
unbecoming  ostentation,  Heart's  Desire  became 
possessed  of  certain  features  never  before  known  in 
its  history. 

Within  a  few  weeks  the  parrot  and  the  twins  had 
so  firmly  established  themselves  in  the  social  system 
of  the  place  as  to  become  matters  of  regular  con- 
versation. Curly  never  appeared  at  the  forum  of 
Whiteman's  corral  without  finding  himself  the  re- 
cipient of  many  queries. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  113 

"Why,  them  twins,"  he  replied  one  day,  "they're 
in  full  charge  of  the  rodeo.  They've  got  me  and  the 
woman  hobbled,  hitched,  and  side-lined  for  keeps. 
Dead  heat  between  them  and  Bill,  the  parrot.  They're 
in  on  all  the  plays  together.  Wherever  they  go, 
he's  right  after  'em,  and  he  night-and-day-herds 
'em  closer'n  a  Mexican  shepherd  dog  does  a  bunch 
of  sheep.  Now,  I  blew  in  last  night,  intoe  their  room, 
and  there  was  old  Bill,  settin'  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  watchin'  of  'em,  them  fast  asleep.  'Too  late 
now,'  says  he  to  me.  'Too  late.  All  over  now!' 
I  didn't  know  what  he  meant  till  I  looked  under  the 
bedclothes;  and  there  was  a  pan  full  of  ginger  cakes 
the  woman  had  made  for  the  fam'ly.  You  needn't 
tell  me  a  parrot  can't  think." 

"It  would  seem,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  medita- 
tively, "that  we  may  report  progress  in  civilization." 

"But  say,  fellers,"  remarked  Curly,  taking  off 
his  hat  and  scratching  his  head  perplexedly,  "some- 
times I  wish  Bill  was  a  chicken  hawk  instead  of  a 
talker.  There  is  rats,  or  mice,  or  something,  got  into 
this  valley  at  last." 

"Do  you  want  any  drugs?"  asked  Doc  Tomlinson, 
suddenly. 

"No,  not  yet,"  Curly  shook  his  head.  "Never 
did  see  airy  rat  or  mouse  round  here,  but  still,  things 
is  happenin'  that  looks  right  strange. 

"It's  this-a-way,  fellers,"  he  continued," — set 
down  here  and  let  me  tell  you."     So  they  all  sat 


114  HEART'S  DESIRE 

down  and  leaned  back  against  the  fence  of  White- 
man's  corral. 

"Last  Christmas/'  Curly  began  at  the  beginning, 
"why,  you  see,  my  girl,  she  got  a  Christmas  present 
from  some  of  her  folks  back  in  Kansas,  in  the  States. 
It  was  a  pair  of  candy  legs." 

"What's  that,  Curly?"  said  Dan  Anderson,  half 
sitting  up. 

"Legs,"  said  Curly,  "made  out  of  candy,  about  so 
long,  or  maybe  a  little  longer.  Red,  and  white,  and 
blue  —  all  made  out  of  candy,  you  know.  Shoes 
on  the  feet,  buckles  on  the  shoes,  and  heels.  Sort  of 
frill  around  on  top.  The  feller  that  made  them 
things  could  shore  do  candy  a-plenty.  They  was 
too  pretty  to  eat  up,  so  the  little  woman,  she  done 
put  'em  in  the  parlor,  —  on  the  table  like,  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor;  tied  'em  together  with  a  blue 
ribbon  and  left  'em  there.  Now,  you  all  know  right 
well  that's  the  only  pair  of  candy  legs  in  Heart's 
Desire." 

"That's  legitimate  distinction,  Curly,"  Dan  Ander- 
son decided.  "It  entitles  your  family  to  social 
prominence." 

"Oh,  we  wasn't  stuck  up  none  over  that,"  laughed 
Curly,  modestly,  "but  we  always  felt  kind  of  com- 
fortable, thinkin'  them  there  legs  was  right  there  on 
the  parlor  table  in  the  other  room.  You  can't  help 
feelin'  good  to  have  some  little  ornyment  like  that 
around  the  place,  you  know,  special  if  there's  women 


HEART'S  DESIRE  115 

around.  But  now,  fellers,  what  I  was  goin'  to  say 
is,  there's  mice,  or  rats,  got  in  on  this  range  some 
how,  and  they  —  " 

"Why  didn't  you  put  'em  in  a  box?"  asked 
McKinney,  severely.  "You  ain't  got  sense  enough 
to  know  the  difference  between  a  hair  rope  and  a  can 
of  California  apricots." 

"  Put  'em  in  a  box  ?  "  cried  Curly.  "  Why  ?  Them 
was  ornyments!  Now  you  ain't  got  a  ornyment  on 
your  whole  place,  except  a  horned  toad  and  four 
tarantulas  in  a  teacup.  Now  a  real  ornyment  is 
somethin'  you  put  on  the  parlor  table,  man,  and  show 
it  free  and  open.    It's  sort  of  sacred  like." 

"Not  for  rats,"  said  McKinney. 

"You'd  better  keep  your  eye  on  that  parrot," 
warned  Doc  Tomlinson.  "About  to-morrow,  you 
tell  us  what  you  find  out." 

But  on  the  morrow  the  mystery  remained  unsolved. 
"One  heel's  plumb  gone,"  said  Curly,  sighing.  "And 
they've  begun  on  the  toe  of  the  other  foot." 

Bill,  the  parrot,  remained  under  increasing  sus- 
picion. "He's  got  a  wall  eye,"  said  McKinney, 
"and  I  never  seen  a  wall  eye  in  a  man,  woman,  or 
mustang,  that  it  didn't  mean  bad.  This  here  bird 
ain't  no  Hereford,  nor  yet  a  short-horn.  He's  a 
dogy  that  ain't  bred  right,  and  he  ain't  due  to  act 
right."  All  Curly  could  do  was  to  shake  his  head, 
unpersuaded. 

Meantime,  there  went  on  in  the  little  cabin  across 


116  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  arroyo,  a  reproduction  of  an  old,  old  drama. 
Should  we,  after  all,  criticise  these  two  descendants 
of  the  first  sweet  human  woman  of  the  world  ?  Con- 
sider ;  to  their  young  and  inexperienced  eyes  appealed 
all  the  fascinations  of  this  august  but  tempting  object, 
new,  strange,  appealing.  For  a  time  their  hearts  were 
strong,  upon  their  souls  rested  the  ancient  mandate 
of  denial.  They  gazed,  short  breathed,  in  awe,  upon 
this  radiantly  bestriped,  unspeakably  fascinating, 
wholly  and  resplendently  pulchritudinous  creation. 
They  must  have  known  that  it  was  a  part  of  the  family 
pride,  a  part  of  the  parlor  —  a  part,  indeed,  of  the 
intermingled  fabric  of  the  civilization  of  Heart's 
Desire !    And  yet  —  alas ! 

One  morning  the  twins  foregathered  in  the  parlor. 
The  hour  of  temptation,  as  is  always  the  case,  found 
all  things  well  ordered  for  the  success  of  evil. 

"Everybody's  gone,"  whispered  Suzanne.  "There 
ain't  nobody  here  at  all." 

"Only  Bill,"  said  Arabella,  looking  at  the  parrot, 
which  regarded  them  with  a  badly  bored  aspect.  "I 
wonder  if  he'd  tell?" 

"Oh,  dang  it  all!"  remarked  Bill;  "I'm  tired!" 

"He's  awful,"  remarked  Arabella.  "He  swears. 
Folks  that  swears  goes  to  the  bad  place.  Besides, 
Bill  wouldn't  tell,  would  you,  Bill?" 

"He'll  go  to  sleep,"  said  Suzanne.  "Besides,  we 
ain't  goin'  to  bite  off  only  just  a  little  bit  of  a  bite! 
Nobody '11  never  notice  it." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  117 

Twofold  Eve  edged  up  to  the  centre  table.  "You 
first,"  said  Arabella. 

"No,  you." 

"You  first,"  insisted  Arabella.  "I'm  afraid.  Bill, 
he's  lookin'." 

"I  ain't  afraid,"  Suzanne  asserted  boldly,  and 
stretched  out  her  hand. 

That  was  the  time  when  the  first  heel  disappeared. 
Even  as  Suzanne's  white  teeth  closed  upon  it,  the 
parrot  gave  a  vast  screech  of  disapproval.  "  Quork ! " 
cried  he.  "Look  out!  Look  out!"  At  which 
warning  both  the  twins  fled  precipitately  underneath 
the  bed;  whence  presently  their  heads  peered  out, 
with  wide  and  frightened  eyes. 

"I  didn't  have  my  bite,"    whimpered  Arabella. 

"It's  only  Bill!"  Suzanne  was  disgusted  with 
herself  for  running.  "Come  on.  Who's  afraid?" 
Arabella  chose  the  toe  of  the  other  foot. 

Thus  it  was  that  temptation,  at  first  insidious,  at 
length  irresistible,  had  its  way.  The  lustre  paled 
and  dimmed  on  one  gaudily  bepainted  leg.  The 
remaining  heel  disappeared.  A  slight  nick  became 
visible  on  the  cap  of  the  right  knee. 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  said  Curly,  scratching  his 
head,  as  he  observed  these  developments. 

"So'll  I,"  remarked  Bill,  in  frank  friendship. 
"Ha!    Ha!" 

Curly  looked  at  him  pugnaciously  for  a  moment. 
"For  one  cent,  Bill,"    said  he,    "I'd  wring  your 


118  HEART'S  DESIRE 

cussed  green  neck  for  you.  I'll  bet  a  hundred  you're 
the  feller  that's  been  a-doin'  all  this  devilment. 
Here  you,  —  Susy  —  Airey, —  have  you  seen  Bill 
a-eatin'  the  ornyment?"  Both  the  young  ladies 
solemnly  and  truthfully  declared  that  they  had  never 
noticed  any  such  thing ;  and  pointed  out  that  par- 
rots, in  their  belief,  did  not  eat  candy. 

The  next  day  amputation  and  subtraction  had 
proceeded  yet  further.  Only  Bill  was  present  when 
Arabella  broke  out  into  tears. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  asked  stout-hearted  Suzanne. 

"Why,  we  —  we  —  we  —  can't  eat  it  but  once," 
mourned  Arabella.  "Now  —  now  —  now  it's  most 
gone !    00  —  oo  —  oo ! " 

"It's  good,"  said  Suzanne. 

"Will  we  go  to  the  bad  place?"  asked  Arabella. 

Suzanne  evaded  this  question.  "How  can  we 
help  it,  when  it  looks  so  pretty,  and  tastes  so  good? 
They  ought  to  put  'em  in  a  box.  I  c-c-can't  help  it !" 
And  now  tears  broke  from  her  eyes  also.  They 
leaned  their  heads  upon  each  other's  shoulders  and 
wept.  But  even  as  they  did  so,  the  hand  of  either, 
upon  the  side  nearest  to  the  table,  reached  out  toward 
the  disfigured  remnant.  A  week  later  the  last  bite 
was  taken.  The  parlor  table  was  bare  and  vacant. 
Heart's  Desire,  in  all  its  length  and  breadth,  con- 
tained no  parlor  ornament ! 

That  was  the  last  day  when  Curly  reported  to  the 
group  at  the  side  of  Whiteman's  corral.     "They're 


HEART'S  DESIRE  119 

gone,  up  to  both  knees  now,"  said  he,  gloomily. 
"The  finish  ain't  far  off.  You  all  come  on  over 
across  the  arroyo  with  me,  and  if  you  can  find  a  sign 
showin'  how  this  thing  happened,  I'll  make  you  a 
present  of  the  whole  shoo  tin'  match." 

It  was  thus  that  Curly,  Dan  Anderson,  Doc  Tom- 
linson,  McKinney,  and  Learned  Counsel  rose  and 
adjourned  across  the  arroyo.  They  found  Suzanne 
and  Arabella  industriously  carrying  in  aprons  full 
of  pinon  chips  for  the  kitchen  stove. 

The  clean-swept  room  at  which  the  visitors  entered 
was  the  neatest  one  in  Heart's  Desire.  The  tall, 
narrow  fireplace  of  clay  in  the  corner  of  the  other 
room  was  swept  clean,  spick  and  span.  A  chair 
stood  exactly  against  the  wall.  The  parlor  table  — 
ah,  appalling  spectacle!  the  parlor  table,  bare  and 
empty,  held  upon  its  surface  no  object  of  any  sort 
whatever ! 

" They're  gone!"  cried  Curly,  "plumb  gone!" 
His  hand  instinctively  reached  toward  his  hip,  and 
he  cast  a  swift  glance  upon  Bill,  the  parrot,  who  sat 
blinking  at  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"All  over  now!"  remarked  Bill.  "All  over! 
Too  late!    Quork!" 

"Rope  him  and  throw  him,"  urged  Doc  Tomlin- 
son.  "Search  his  person.  We  got  to  look  in  his 
teeth." 

"Not  necessary,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "He 
hasn't   got   any   teeth,"     The   entire   party   looked 


120  HEART'S  DESIRE 

with  enmity  at  Bill,  but  the  latter  turned  upon  them 
so  brave  and  unflinching  a  front  that  none  dared 
question  his  honor. 

Dan  Anderson,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  turned 
and  strolled  alone  into  the  other  room,  and  thence 
out  of  the  door  into  the  sunlight,  where  the  twins 
were  still  continuing  their  unwonted  industry  at 
the  chip  pile.  He  stood  and  looked  at  them,  saying 
no  word,  but  with  a  certain  smile  on  his  face.  A 
gorner  of  each  apron  fell  down,  spilling  the  chips 
upon  the  ground.  The  other  hand  of  each  twin 
was  raised  as  though  to  wipe  a  furtive  tear.  Dan 
Anderson  put  out  his  arms  to  them. 

"Come  here,  little  women,"  he  said  softly,  and  took 
them  in  his  arms.  One  chubby  face  rested  against 
each  side  of  his  own.  His  long  arms  tightened 
around  them  protectingly.  Tears  now  began  to 
wet  his  cheeks,  falling  from  the  eyes  of  the  twins. 

"You  —  you  won't  tell?"  whispered  Suzanne,  in 
his  right  ear,  and  Arabella  begged  as  much  upon  the 
left. 

"No,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  hugging  them  the 
tighter,  "I  won't  tell." 

"It's  gone!"  said  Suzanne,  vaguely. 

"Yes,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "it's  gone."  He 
turned  at  the  sound  of  voices.  Curly  appeared  at 
the  door,  carrying  in  his  hand  a  limp,  bedraggled 
figure. 

"That,"    said  Dan  Anderson,  "I  take  to  be  the 


HEART'S  DESIRE  121 

remains  of  our  late  friend  Bill,  the  parrot.  What 
made  you,  Curly  ?" 

"Well,"  said  Curly,  defensively,  as  he  held  the 
body  of  Bill  suspended  by  the  head  between  two  fin- 
gers, "I  was  lookin'  for  his  teeth,  to  see  if  he  had  any 
candy  in  'em,  and  he  bit  my  finger  nigh  about  off. 
So  I  just  wrung  his  neck.  Do  you  reckon  he'd  be 
good  fried?" 

"He'd  like  enough  be  tolerable  tough,"  said 
McKinney.     "Them  parrots  gets  shore  old." 

"You  ought  to  have  some  drugs  to  tan  his  hide," 
Doc  Tomlinson  volunteered  hopefully.  "It'd  be 
right  stylish  on  a  hat." 

Dan  Anderson  gazed  at  Curly  with  reproach  in 
his  eyes.  "Now,  I  just  wrung  his  neck,"  repeated 
the  latter,  protesting. 

"Yes,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "and  you've  wrung 
the  wrong  neck.    Bill  was  innocent." 

"Then  who  done  et  the  legs?" 

"That,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "brings  me  again 
to  the  position  which  I  enunciated  this  morning. 
In  these  modern  days  of  engineers,  mining  companies, 
parrots,  and  twins,  the  structure  of  our  civilization 
is  so  complex  as  to  require  the  services  of  a  highly 
intelligent  corporation  counsel.  You  ask  who  ate 
the  candy  ornament,  representation,  or  image  for- 
merly existent  on  your  premises.  I  reply  that  in  all 
likelihood  it  was  done  by  a  corporation;  but  these 
matters  must  appear  in  court  at  a  later  time." 


122  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Well/'  said  McKinney,  "it  looks  like  the  joke 
was  on  us." 

Dan  Anderson  smiled  gravely.  "In  the  opinion 
of  myself  and  the  consolidation  which  I  represent/' 
said  he,  and  he  hugged  the  twins,  who  looked  down 
frightened  from  his  arms,  "the  joke  is  on  Bill,  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar." 

The  group  would  have  separated,  had  it  not  been 
for  a  sudden  exclamation  from  Curly.  "Ouch!" 
cried  that  worthy,  and  cast  from  him  the  body  of 
Bill,  supposedly  defunct.  "He  bit  me  again,  blame 
him!"  said  Curly,  sucking  his  thumb. 

"If  he  bit  you  for  true,"  said  McKinney,  who  was 
of  a  practical  turn  of  mind,  "like  enough  he  ain't  been 
dead  at  all." 

Corroboration  was  not  lacking.  The  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  thrown  violently  upon  the  ground,  now  sat 
up,  half  leaning  against  a  pinon  log,  and  contem- 
plated those  present  with  a  cynical  and  unfriendly 
gray  eye. 

"Now,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson,  regarding  him,  "you 
get  him  a  few  drugs,  and  he'll  be  just  as  good  as 
new,  right  soon." 

"All  I  got  to  say,"  grumbled  Curly,  "is,  for  a  thing 
that  ain't  got  no  teeth,  and  that's  dead,  both,  he  can 
bite  a  leetle  the  hardest  of  anything  I  ever  did  see." 

"Yet  it  is  strange,"  remarked  Dan  Anderson, 
"that  the  innocent  bystander  should  sit  up  and  take 
notice,   after  all.    How  are  you  feeling,   friend?" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  123 

This  to  Bill,  who  was  now  faintly  fanning  a  wing  and 
ruffling  up  his  yellow  crest. 

"I'm  mighty  tired,"  said  Bill. 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  remarked  Dan  Anderson, 
cheerfully,  turning  to  put  down  Suzanne  and  Ara- 
bella safe  within  the  door,  "but  as  corporation  coun- 
sel I  am  bound  to  protect  the  interests  of  my  clients. 
Run,  you  kids! 

"As  to  you,  Curly,"  he  continued,  "you  repre- 
sent, in  your  ignorance,  ourselves  and  all  Heart's 
Desire.  We  have  intrusted  to  us  a  candy  palla- 
dium of  liberty,  which,  being  interpreted,  means  a 
man's  chance  to  be  a  grown  man,  with  whiskers,  in 
a  free  state  of  Heart's  Desire.  What  do  we  do  then  ? 
Ask  in  a  railroad  corporation,  and  shut  our  eyes!" 

"And  a  corporation,"  said  Curly,  meditatively, 
"can  be  a  shore  cheerful  performer." 


CHAPTER  IX 

CIVILIZATION  AT   HEART'S  DESIRE 

How  the  Men  of  Heart's  Desire  surrendered  to  the  Soften- 
ing Seductions  of  Croquet  and  other  Pastimes 

"Go  on,  Curly,  it's  your  next  shot.  Hurry  up," 
said  McKinney,  who  was  nervous. 

"Now  you  just  hold  on,  Mac,"  replied  the  former. 
"This  here  croquet  is  a  new  style  of  shootin',  and 
with  two  dollars  on  the  game  I  ain't  goin'  to  be 
hurried  none." 

"It  ain't  a  half-decent  outfit,  either,"  complained 
Doc  Tomlinson.  "  Hay  wire  ain't  any  good  for  cro- 
quet arches;  and  as  for  these  here  balls  and  mallets 
you  bought  sight-unseen  by  mail,  they're  a  disgrace 
to  civilization." 

11  Pronto!  Pronto!  Hurry  up!"  called  Dan  An- 
derson from  his  perch  on  the  fence  of  Whiteman's 
corral,  from  which  he  was  observing  what  was  prob- 
ably the  first  game  of  croquet  ever  played  between 
the  Pecos  and  Rio  Grande  rivers.  There  were  cer- 
tain features  of  the  contest  in  question  which  were 
perhaps  not  usual.  Indeed,  I  do  not  recall  ever  to 
have  seen  any  other  game  of  croquet  in  which  two 
of  the  high  contracting  parties  wore  "chaps"  and 

124 


HEART'S  DESIRE  125 

spurs  and  the  other  two  overalls  and  blue  shirts. 
But  in  spite  of  all  admonition  Curly  stood  perplexed, 
with  his  hat  pushed  back  on  his  forehead  and  his 
mallet  held  gingerly  between  the  ringers  of  one  hand, 
while  a  cigarette  graced  those  of  the  other. 

"The  court  rules,"  resumed  Dan  Anderson,  "that 
this  game  can't  wait  for  arguments  of  counsel. 
Curly,  you  are  a  disgrace.  You  and  McKinney 
ought  to  skin  Doc  and  the  Learned  Counsel  easy  if 
you  had  a  bit  of  savvy.    Can't  you  hit  that  stake  ?" 

"I  could  if  you'd  let  me  take  a  six-shooter  or  a 
rope,"  said  Curly.  "I  ain't  fixed  for  this  here 
tenderfoot  game  you-all  have  sprung  on  me.  If  it 
wasn't  for  that  there  spur,  I'd  have  sent  Doc's  ball 
plumb  over  Carrizy  Mountain  that  last  carrom.  You 
watch  me  when  onct  I  get  the  hang  of  this  thing." 

"You  can't  get  the  hang  of  nothing,"  said  McKin- 
ney. "A  cow  puncher  ain't  got  no  sense  except  to 
ride  mean  horses  and  eat  canned  tomatoes." 

"Maybe  you  don't  like  your  pardner,"  said  Curly. 
"Now  you  change  around  next  game,  and  I'll  bet  me 
and  the  lawyer  can  skin  Doc  and  you  to  a  finish. 
Bet  you  three  pesos.  Of  course,  I  can't  play  this 
thing  first  jump  like  a  borned  tenderfoot.  I  won- 
der what  my  mammy'd  say  to  me  if  she  caught  me 
foolin'  around  here  with  this  here  little  wooden  tack 
hammer." 

"It  all  comes  of  Mac's  believin'  everything  he  saw 
in  an  advertisement,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 


126  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Well,  you  put  me  up  to  it,"  retorted  McKinney, 
flushing. 

"Now,  there  you  go!"  exclaimed  Dan  Anderson. 
"I  didn't  figure  on  what  it  might  do  to  our  mortality 
tables.  You  fellows  can't  play  the  game  wearin' 
spurs,  and  I'm  afraid  to  see  you  try  any  further 
with  your  guns  on.  Here,  all  of  you,  come  over  here. 
The  umpire  decides  that  you've  got  to  check  your 
guns  during  the  game.  I  don't  mind  bein'  umpire 
in  the  ancient  and  honorable  game  of  croquet,  but  I 
ain't  goin'  to  assume  no  unpaid  obligations  as 
coroner." 

With  some  protests  all  those  engaged  handed 
their  belts  to  Dan  Anderson,  who  casually  flung 
them  over  a  projecting  cedar  limb  of  the  fence. 
"For  shame!  Curly,"  said  he.  "Talk  about  tender- 
feet!  Here  you  are,  wearin'  a  pearl  handle  on 
your  gun,  just  like  a  cheap  Nebraska  sheepherder 
with  social  ambitions.  I  thought  you  was  a  real 
cowman.    The  court  fines  you  — " 

"It  ain't  my  fault,"  said  Curly,  blushing.  "The 
girl  —  the  little  woman  —  that's  my  wife  —  she 
done  that  last  Christmas.  She  allowed  it  was  fine  — 
and  it  goes." 

"Yes,  and  put  enough  money  into  this  handle  to 
buy  a  whole  new  croquet  set  for  the  family.  Ain't 
that  awful!  All  this  comes  of  takin'  a  daily  news- 
paper once  a  month  and  readin'  the  advertisin' 
columns.  We're  going  to  be  plumb  effete,  if  we  ain't 
mighty  careful,  down  in  here." 


HI    UMPIRE   DECIDES   THAT   YOU  VE  GOT   TO   CHECK    YOUR   GUNS 
DURING  THE   GAME."' 


HEART'S  DESIRE  127 

"  That's  so,"  said  McKinney,  scratching  his  head. 
"  Times  is  changin'.  That  reminds  me,  I  ordered  a 
new  suit  of  clothes  by  mail  from  Philadelphy,  and 
they  ought  to  be  just  about  due  when  Tom  Osby 
comes  down;    and  that  ought  to  be  to-day." 

"That's  so,"  assented  Doc  Tomlinson.  "He's 
got  a  little  bill  of  goods  for  me,  too." 

"Oh,  why,  ok,  why  this  profligacy,  Doc?"  said 
Dan  Anderson.  "Didn't  you  order  two  pounds  of 
alum  the  last  trip  Tom  made?  What  do  you  want 
of  so  many  drugs,  anyhow?" 

"Hush,  fellers,"  said  Curly.     "Listen  a  minute!" 

Curly's  ears  had  detected  the  rattle  of  distant  wagon 
wheels.  "That's  Tom  comin' now,"  said  he.  "He's 
a  heap  more  regular  than  the  Socorro  stage.  That's 
him,  because  I  can  hear  him  singin'." 

"Tom,  he's  stuck  on  music,"  said  McKinney. 

Afar,  but  approaching  steadily,  might  be  heard 
the  jolting  vehicle  coming  down  the  canon;  and 
presently  there  was  borne  to  our  ears  the  sound  of 
Tom  Osby's  voice  in  his  favorite  melody :  — 

"  I  never  lo-o-oved  a  f oo-o-o-nd  ga-a-a-z-elle ! " 

He  proclaimed  this  loudly. 

We  knew  that  Tom  would  drive  up  to  Whiteman's 
store,  hence  we  waited  for  him  near  the  corral  fence. 
As  he  approached  and  observed  our  occupation  he 
arrested  his  salutations  and  gazed  for  a  moment  in 
silent  meditation. 


128  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Prithee,  sweet  sirs,"  said  he,  at  length,  "what 
in  blazes  you  doin' ?" 

"These  gentlemen,"  said  Dan  Anderson  from  the 
fence,  "are  engaged  in  showin'  the  endurin'  quality  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  temperament.  Wherever  the  Saxon 
goes  he  sets  up  his  own  peculiar  institutions.  What ! 
Shall  New  Mexico  be  behind  New  York,  or  New 
England?  This  croquet  set  cost  eighteen  dollars 
to  get  here  from  Chicago.  Get  down,  Tom,  you're 
in  on  the  game." 

But  Tom  picked  up  his  reins  and  clucked  to  his 
team.  "Excuse  me,  fellers,"  said  he.  "That  there 
looks  too  frisky  for  me.  I  got  to  think  of  my  busi- 
ness reputation."    He  passed  on  up  the  street. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Tom?"  asked  Curly. 
"Seems  like  he  wasn't  feelin'  right  cheerful,  some 
way."  Dan  Anderson  gazed  after  the  teamster 
pensively. 

"Methinks  you  are  concealing  something  from  us, 
Tom,"  said  he.  "  Let's  go  find  out  what  it  is,  fellows." 
He  disengaged  the  respective  six-shooters  from 
their  place  on  the  fence,  and  thus  again  properly 
clad,  we  wandered  over  toward  Whiteman's  commer- 
cial emporium,  where  Tom  Osby  was  now  proceeding 
to  discharge  the  cargo  of  his  freight  wagon.  This 
done,  he  did  not  pause  for  a  pipe  and  a  parley,  but, 
climbing  up  to  the  high  front  seat,  picked  up  the 
reins  and  drove  off;  not,  as  was  his  wont,  to  the 
corral,  or  to  Uncle  Jim  Brothers's  restaurant,  but  to 


HEART'S  DESIRE  129 

his  own  adobe  down  the  arroyo.  We  looked  at  each 
other  in  silence. 

"Something  on  his  mind,"   said  Dan  Anderson. 

"He  didn't  bring  my  clothes/'  said  McKinney. 

"Nor  my  drugs,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson. 

"And  yet,"  said  Curly,  who  was  observant,  "he 
kep'  one  box  in  the  wagon.  Couldn't  see  the  brand, 
but  she's  there  all  right." 

"Curly,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "you  are  appointed 
a  committee  of  one  to  follow  the  accused  down  to 
his  house  and  find  out  what  all  this  means." 

Curly  deployed  as  a  skirmisher,  and  finally  arrived 
in  front  of  Tom  Osby's  adobe.  The  tired  horses 
stood  in  the  sun  still  hitched  to  the  wagon,  and 
Curly,  out  of  pity,  made  it  his  first  business  to  hunt 
under  the  wagon  seat  for  the  picket  ropes  and 
halters.  He  then  began  to  search  for  the  oats  bag, 
but  while  so  engaged  his  attention  was  attracted  by 
something  whose  nature  we,  at  a  distance,  could  not 
determine.  With  a  swift  glance  into  the  back  of  the 
wagon,  and  another  at  the  door  of  the  cabin,  Curly 
dropped  his  Good  Samaritan  work  for  Tom  Osby's 
team  and  came  up  the  street  at  as  fast  a  gait  as 
any  cow  puncher  can  command  on  foot.  When  he 
reached  us  his  freckled  brow  was  wrinkled  in  a 
frown. 

"Fellers,"  said  he.  "I  didn't  think  it  of  him! 
This  here  ain't  right.  Tom  Osby's  got  a  baby  in 
there,  and  he's  squeezin'  the  life  out  of  it.    Listen! 


130  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Come  on  now.  Do  you  hear  that?  How's  that? 
Why,  I  tell  you  —  why,  dang  me  if  it  ain't  singirt 7" 

There  came  to  our  ears,  as  we  approached,  a  cer- 
tain wailing  melody,  thin,  quavering,  distant,  weird. 
As  it  rose  upon  the  hot  afternoon  air  it  seemed 
absolutely  strange,  unimaginable,  impossible.  The 
spine  of  each  man  crawled. 

Dan  Anderson,  of  the  entire  party,  seemed  to  be 
the  only  one  who  maintained  his  self-possession.  He 
smiled  gently.  "Now,"  said  he,  "we  certainly  are 
fixed;  Heart's  Desire  ain't  benighted  any  after  this." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  Curly  questioned. 

"Poor  cow  puncher,"  replied  Dan  Anderson,  "I 
have  to  do  the  thinkin'  for  you,  and  I  ain't  paid  for 
it.  Who,  if  not  the  Learned  Counsel  on  my  right 
and  myself,  organized  the  social  and  legal  system  of 
this  community?  Who  paved  these  broad  boule- 
vards of  our  beauteous  city?  Who  put  up  the 
electric  lightin'  and  heatin'  plant,  and  installed  the 
forty-eight  miles  of  continuous  trolley  track  all  under 
one  transfer  system?  Who  built  the  courthouse 
and  the  red  brick  schoolhouse,  with  nine  school- 
teachers fresh  from  Connecticut?  Who  planned  the 
new  depot?  Who  got  a  new  leather  lounge  for  the 
managin'  editor  of  our  daily  newspaper  ?  Who  built 
the  three  new  smelters  ?  Who  filled  our  busy  streets 
each  evenin'  with  throngs  of  happy-faced  laborers 
pacin'  home  at  night  after  four  hours'  pleasant  work 
each  day  in  our  elegantly  upholstered  quartz  mines? 


HEART'S  DESIRE  131 

Was  it  you,  Curly,  who  made  these  different  and 
several  pasears  in  progress?  Was  it  you,  Doc,  you 
benighted  stray  from  the  short-grass  Kansas  plains, 
where  they  can't  raise  Kafir  corn?  Was  it  you, 
McKinney,  you  sour-dispositioned  consumer  of  canned 
peas?  Nay,  nay.  It  was  myself  and  my  learned 
brother.     You  ought  to  send  us  both  to  Congress.'' 

We  gazed  up  the  long,  silent  street  of  Heart's 
Desire,  asleep  in  the  all-satisfying  sun,  and  it  almost 
seemed  to  us  that  we  could  indeed  see  all  these  things 
that  he  had  named.  The  spell  was  broken  by  a 
renewal  of  the  thin,  high  voice  of  this  mysterious 
Thing  in  Tom  Osby's  house. 

"And  now,"  resumed  Dan  Anderson,  "as  I  re- 
marked, havin'  turned  our  hands  to  the  stable  things 
of  life,  and  havin'  builded  well  the  structure  of  an 
endurin',  permanent  society,  there  remained  for  us 
no  need  save  for  the  softenin'  and  refinin'  touch  of 
a  higher  culture.  We  lacked  nothing  but  Art. 
Now,  here  she  is ! 

"What  you're  listenin'  to,  my  countrymen,  is 
music.  It  ain't  a  baby,  Curly.  Music,  heavenly 
maid,  is  young  in  Heart's  Desire,  but  it  ain't  any  baby 
that  you're  listenin'  to.  I  told  Tom  Osby  myself 
to  look  into  the  phonograph  business  some  time  if 
he  got  a  chance.  Gentlemen,  I  now  bid  you  follow 
me,  to  greet  Art  upon  its  arrival  in  our  midst.  I 
must  confess  that  Tom  Osby  is  actin'  like  a  blamed 
swine  over  this  thing,  try  in'  to  keep  it  all  to  himself." 


132  HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  phonograph  inside  the  adobe  switched  from 
one  tune  to  another.  "  Don't  that  sound  like  the 
Plaza  Major  in  old  Chihuahua  by  moonlight?"  cried 
McKinney,  as  a  swinging  band  march  came  squealing 
out  through  the  door.  "That's  a  piece  by  a  Mexi- 
can band.  Can't  you  hear  the  choo-choo,  and  the 
wee-wee,  and  the  bum-bum?  They're  all  there, 
sure's  you're  born!" 

"If  she  plays  'La  Paloma,'  or  that  'Golondrina' 
thing,  I'm  goin'  to  shoot,"  threatened  Curly.  "I've 
done  danced  to  them  things  at  more'n  a  thousand 
bailes  here  and  in  Texas,  and  if  this  is  Art,  she's  got 
to  do  different." 

"Gentlemen,"  Dan  Anderson  suggested,  "let  us 
go  in  and  watch  Tom  Osby  gettin'  his  savage  breast 
soothed." 

Tom  Osby  started  as  he  saw  shadows  on  the  floor; 
but  it  was  too  late.  He  was  discovered  sitting  on 
the  bed,  in  rapt  attention  to  the  machine  industriously 
grinding  away  upon  the  table.  Dan  Anderson, 
with  great  gravity,  took  up  a  collection  of  four  pins 
from  each  of  the  newcomers  and  handed  them  to 
Tom.  "No  bent  ones,"  said  he.  "It's  a  good  show; 
but,  tell  us,  what  are  you  doin'  ?  This  is  worse  than 
croquet.  And  we  asked  you  in  on  our  game,  too. 
Ain't  you  playin'  it  just  a  little  bit  lonesome  this 
way?" 

Tom  frowned  in  perturbation.  "Well,  I  was  goin' 
to  spring  her  on  you  about  to-night,  up  at  the  Lone 


HEART'S  DESIRE  133 

Star,"  said  he;  "but  I  couldn't  wait.  Ain't  she  a 
yaller  flower?  Say,  I  played  her  every  night  from 
Vegas  down  for  five  nights  —  Pecos  Crossin',  Salt 
Wells,  Maxwell's,  Hocradle  Canon,  Jack's  Peak  — 
all  the  way.  After  I'd  get  my  horses  hobbled  out 
and  get  my  bed  made  down,  I'd  set  her  up  on  the 
front  seat  and  turn  her  loose.  Coyotes  —  you'd 
ought  to  heard  'em !  When  you  wind  her  up  plumb 
tight  and  turn  the  horn  the  right  direction,  you  can 
hear  her  about  a  mile." 

"That,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "must  have  been  a 
gladsome  journey." 

"For  sure,"  said  Tom  Osby.  "Look  at  the  ree- 
cords  —  whole  box  of  'em.  Some  of  the  stylishest 
singers  in  the  business  are  in  here.  Some  of  'em's 
Dago,  I  reckon.    Here's  one,  '  Ah,  no  Ginger.'  " 

"That,  probably,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "is  'Ah, 
non  Giunge.'  Yes,  it's  Dago,  but  not  bad  for  a  lady 
with  a  four-story  voice." 

"Here's  another,"  said  Tom;    "'Down  Mobile.'" 

"I  know  that  one,"  said  Curly. 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  the  impresario  in  charge. 
"Ah,  as  I  thought;  it's  'La  Donna  e  Mobile.'  This, 
bein'  translated,  means  that  any  lady  can  change 
her  mind  occasionally,  whether  she  comes  from 
Mobile  or  not." 

"That's  no  dream,"  said  Curly.  "Onct  on  the 
Brazos  —  " 

"Never  mind,  Curly.    Just  feed  that  'Donna'  into 


134  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  machine,  Tom,  and  let's  hear  how  it  sounds  once 
more." 

And  so  Tom  Osby,  proud  in  his  new  possession, 
played  for  his  audience,  there  in  the  adobe  by  the 
arroyo;  played  all  his  records,  or  nearly  all;  played 
them  over  and  over  again.  It  was  nearly  night 
when  we  left  the  place. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Dan  Anderson  to  me,  with  a 
motion  as  though  adjusting  a  cravat  upon  my  neck, 
"but  your  white  tie  is  slipping  around  under  your 
ear  again."  And  as  we  walked,  I  was  sure  that  I 
saw  an  opera  hat  under  his  arm,  though  sober  reason 
convinced  me  that  we  both  were  wearing  overalls, 
and  not  evening  clothes. 

"But  did  you  notice,"  said  Curly,  after  a  while, 
"Tom,  he's  holdin'  out  on  us.  That  there  music, 
it's  all  tangled  up  in  my  hair."  He  removed  his  hat 
and  ran  a  questioning  hand  through  the  matted 
tangle  on  his  curly  front.  "But,"  he  resumed, 
"there  was  one  piece  he  didn't  play.  I  seen  him 
slip  it  under  the  blankets  on  the  bed." 

"How  could  he!"  said  Dan  Anderson.  But 
memories  sufficient  came  trooping  upon  him  to  cause 
him  to  forget.  He  fell  to  whistling  "La  Donna  e 
Mobile"  dreamily. 


CHAPTER  X 

ART  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

How  Tom  Osby,  Common  Carrier,  caused  Trouble  with  a 
Portable  Annie  Laurie 

The  shadows  of  night  had  fallen  when  at  length 
Tom  Osby  crept  stealthily  to  his  door  and  looked 
around.  The  street  seemed  deserted  and  silent, 
as  usual.  Tom  Osby  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  bed 
and  withdrew  from  under  the  blankets  the  bit  of 
gutta-percha  which  Curly  had  noticed  him  conceal. 
He  adjusted  the  record  in  the  machine  and  sprung 
the  catch.  Then  he  sat  and  listened,  intent,  ab- 
sorbed, hearkening  to  the  wonderful  voice  of  one  of 
the  world's  great  contraltos.  It  was  an  old,  old 
melody  she  sang,  —  the  song  of  "  Annie  Laurie." 

Tom  Osby  played  it  over  again.  He  sat  and 
listened,  as  he  had,  night  after  night,  in  the  moon- 
light on  the  long  trail  from  Las  Vegas  down.  The 
face  of  a  strong  and  self-repressed  man  is  difficult 
to  read.  It  does  not  change  lightly  under  any  pass- 
ing emotion.  Tom  Osby's  face  perhaps  looked  even 
harder  than  usual,  as  he  sat  there  listening,  his  unlit 
pipe  clenched  hard  between  his  hands.  Truant  to 
his  trusts,  forgetful  of  the  box  of  candy  which  regu- 

136 


136  HEART'S  DESIRE 

larly  he  brought  down  from  Vegas  to  the  Littlest 
Girl,  Curly's  wife;  forgetful  of  many  messages, 
commercial  and  social, — forgetful  even  of  us,  his 
sworn  cronies, — Tom  Osby  sat  and  listened  to  a 
voice  which  sang  of  a  Face  that  was  the  Fairest,  and 
of  a  Dark  blue  Eye. 

The  voice  sang  and  sang  again,  until  finally  four 
conspirators  once  more  approached  Tom  Osby's 
cabin.  He  had  forgotten  his  supper.  Dinner  was 
done,  in  Heart's  Desire,  soon  after  noon.  Dan  An- 
derson stood  thoughtful  for  a  time. 

"Let  him  alone,  fellows,"  said  he.  "I  savvy. 
That  fellow's  in  love!  He's  in  love  with  a  Voice! 
Ain't  it  awful?" 

Silence  met  this  remark.  Dan  Anderson  seated 
himself  on  a  stone,  and  we  others  followed  his  ex- 
ample, going  into  a  committee  of  the  whole,  there 
in  the  night-time,  on  the  bank  of  the  arroyo. 

"Did  you  notice,  Curly,"  asked  Dan  Anderson  — 
"did  you  get  a  chance  to  see  the  name  on  the  record 
of  the  singer  who  —  who  perpetrated  this?" 

"No,"  said  Curly.  "I  couldn't  get  a  clean  look 
at  the  brand,  owin'  to  Tom's  cuttin'  out  the  thing 
so  sudden  from  the  bunch.  It  was  somethin'  like 
Doughnuts — " 

"  Exactly — Madame  Donatelli !  I  thought  I  rather 
recognized  that  voice  my  own  self." 

"Dago!"  said  McKinney  with  scorn. 

"By   training   though   not   by   birth,"   admitted 


HEART'S  DESIRE  137 

Dan  Anderson.  "  Georgia  girl  originally,  they  tell 
me,  and  Dagoized  proper,  subsequent.  All  Yankee 
girls  have  to  be  Dagoized  before  they  can  learn  to 
sing  right  good  and  strong,  you  know.  They  frequent 
learn  a  heap  of  things  besides  l Annie  Laurie'  —  and 
besides  singin'.  Oh,  I  can  see  the  Yankee  Dago 
lady  right  now.  Fancy  works  installed  in  the  roof 
of  her  mouth,  adjacent  and  adjoinin'  to  her  tongue, 
teeth,  and  other  vocal  outfit. 

"Now,  this  here  Georgia  girl,  accordin'  to  all 
stories,  has  sung  herself  into  about  a  quarter  of  a 
million  dollars  and  four  or  five  different  husbands 
with  that  voice  of  hers;  and  that  same  '  Annie  Laurie' 
song  was  largely  responsible.  Now,  why,  why, 
couldn't  she  have  taken  a  fellow  of  her  size,  and  not 
gone  and  made  trouble  for  Tom  Osby?  It  wasn't 
fair  play. 

"Now,  Tom,  he  sits  humped  over  in  there, 
a-lookin'  in  that  horn.  What  does  he  see  ?  Madame 
Donatelli?  Does  he  see  her  show  her  teeth  and  bat 
her  eyes  when  she's  fetchin'  one  of  them  hand-curled 
trills  of  hers?  Nay,  nay.  What  he  sees  is  a  girl 
just  like  the  one  he  used  to  know — " 

"Whoa!  Hold  on  there;  that'll  about  do,"  said 
McKinney.    "This  country's  just  as  good  as — " 

"No,  let  him  go  on,"  said  Curly  to  McKinney. 
"Onct  over  on  the  Brazos  —  " 

"Sometimes  I  think  you  fellows  are  inclined  to 
be  provincial,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  calmly.     "Now, 


138  HEART'S  DESIRE 

I'm  not  goin'  to  talk  if  you  don't  leave  me  alone. 
Listen.  What  does  Tom  Osby  see  in  that  horn  that 
he's  lookin'  into?  I'll  tell  you.  He  sees  a  plumb 
angel  in  white  clothes  and  a  blue  sash.  She's  got 
gray  eyes  and  brown  hair,  and  she's  just  a  little  bit 
shorter  than  will  go  right  under  my  arm  here  when 
I  stretch  it  out  level." 

"That's  about  right!"  said  McKinney. 

"She's  got  on  white,"  resumed  Dan  Anderson, 
casting  a  glance  about  him  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening. 
"The  girl's  got  to  have  on  white.  There  ain't  no 
man  can  hold  out  when  they  come  in  white  and  have 
on  a  blue  sash  —  it's  no  use  tryin'  then. 

"Now,  there  she  is,  a-settin'  at  the  piano  in  there 
in  the  front  parlor ;  daddy's  gone  out  into  the  country 
after  a  load  of  wood,  like  enough;  old  lady's  gone 
to  bed,  after  a  hard  day's  labor.  Honeysuckles 
bloomin'  all  around,  because  in  New  Jersey  — " 

"It  wasn't  in  New  Jersey,"  said  Learned  Counsel, 
hastily,  before  he  thought. 

"No,  it  was  in  New  York,"  said  McKinney,  boldly. 

"You're  all  liars,"  said  Curly,  calmly;  "it  was 
onct  on  the  Brazos." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "you  are  right. 
It  was  once  on  the  Brazos,  and  in  Iowa,  and  in  New 
York,  and  in  New  Jersey,  and  in  Georgia.  Thank 
God,  it  was  there,  once  upon  a  time,  in  all  those 
places.  .  .  .  And,  as  I  was  sayin',  the  birds  was 
just  twitterin'  in  the  evergreen  trees  along  the  front 


HEART'S  DESIRE  139 

walk,  some  sleepy,  because  it  was  just  gettin'  right 
dark.  Vines,  you  know,  hangin'  over  the  edge  of 
the  front  porch,  like.  Few  chairs  settin'  around  on 
the  porch.  Just  a  little  band  of  moonlight  layin' 
there  on  the  front  steps,  leadin'  up  like  a  heavenly 
walk,  like  a  white  path  to  Paradise  —  which  was 
there  in  the  front  parlor,  with  the  best  angel  there  at 
home. 

"The  high  angel  of  this  here  Heaven,  like  I  told 
you,  she's  a  settin'  there  in  white,"  he  went  on; 
"  and  with  a  blue  sash  —  it  was  blue,  now,  wasn't  it, 
fellows?  And  she's  lettin'  her  ringers,  God  bless 
'em,  just  tra-la-loo-loo,  loo-loo-la-la,  up  and  down 
the  keys  of  the  piano  her  dad  gave  her  when  she 
graduated.  And  now  she's  sort  of  singin'  to  her- 
self —  half  whisperin',  soft  and  deep  —  I  hate  a  thin- 
voiced  woman,  or  a  bad-tempered  one,  same  as  you 
do  —  she's  just  singin'  about  as  loud  as  you  can 
hear  easy  down  as  far  as  the  front  gate.  And  — 
why,  she's  a  singin'  that  same  tune  there,  of  '  Annie 
Laurie'!  .  .  .  And  in  your  heart  you  know  it's 
true,  every  word  of  it,  all  the  time,  and  at  any 
station!"  said  Dan  Anderson. 

"At  any  station!"  said  Curly. 

"At  any  station!"  said  McKinneyD 

"At  any  station!"  said  Learned  Counsel. 

There  were  no  hats  on  at  that  moment.  To  be 
sure,  the  evening  air  was  a  trifle  warm. 

"And  now,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  after  a  while,  "it's 


140  HEART'S  DESIRE 

got  Tom.  Now,  why  couldn't  it  have  been  a  man- 
Dago  to  sing  that  air  into  the  tuneful  horn  of  the 
mechanical  heavenly  maid  yonder?  No  reason, 
only  it's  got  to  be  a  woman  to  sing  that  man's  song 
of  'Annie  Laurie.'  A  man  couldn't  any  more  sing 
'Annie  Laurie'  than  you  could  make  cocktails  with- 
out bitters.  The  only  way  we  can  get  either  one  of 
them  here  is  in  bulk,  which  we  have  done.  It's 
canned  Art,  that's  all.  Owin'  to  our  present  transpor- 
tation facilities,  everything  has  to  come  here  in  cans." 

Dan  Anderson  arose  and  stretched  out  his  arm. 
"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I  present  to  you  Art!"  He 
raised  before  him  an  imaginary  glass,  which  we  all 
saw  plainly.  "I  present  to  you  the  cool,  pink,  and 
well-flavored  combination  of  life  and  longing  with  a 
cherry  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Thanks  to  Tom  Osby, 
we  have  Art !  We  are  not  quite  provincial.  Listen 
at  Madame  Donatelli  tearin'  it  off  in  there!  .  .  . 
Shoot  him  up,  boys!"  he  cried  suddenly.  "I'm 
damned  if  I'm  going  to  look  all  my  days  on  the  picture 
of  a  girl  in  a  blue  sash!  The  chief  end  of  man  is 
to  witness  an  ecru  coyote  and  a  few  absolute  human 
failures  like  you  and  me.  Down  with  the  heavenly 
maid!  Shoot  him  up!  He's  a  destroyer  of  the 
peace!" 

So  we  shot  up  Tom's  adobe  for  a  time,  joyously 
peppering  the  thick  walls,  until  at  length  that  worthy 
came  out  annoyed,  a  phonograph  record  in  one  hand 
and  a  gun  in  the  other. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  141 

"  Don't,  fellers/'  said  he.  "  You  might  break  some- 
thing." 

"Come  out/'  said  Dan  Anderson.  "Not  even 
grand  opera  lasts  all  night.  Besides,  the  price  of  the 
box  seats  is  exorbitant.  Come  on.  Get  ready  to 
play  croquet  to-morrow.    It's  safer." 

And  so  Tom  Osby's  entertainment  came  to  an  end 
for  that  evening.  Our  little  party  straggled  on  up 
the  long,  deserted  street  of  Heart's  Desire.  Dan 
Anderson  turned  in  at  the  post-office  to  see  if  the 
daily  paper  from  El  Paso  had  come  in  that  month. 

It  was  something  that  Dan  Anderson  saw  in  the 
daily  paper  that  caused  him  on  the  following  day  to 
lead  Tom  Osby  aside.  "Did  you  know,  Tom,"  said 
he,  "that  that  opera  singer  you've  got  in  your  box, 
the  ' Annie  Laurie'  artist,  is  goin'  to  be  down  in  this 
part  of  the  world  before  long?" 

"I  never  loved  a  fo-o-o-nd  ga-aze-11-lle ! "  began 
Tom  Osby,  defensively. 

"Well,  it's  true." 

"What  are  you  tellin'  me?"  said  Tom,  scornfully. 
"Comin'  down  here?  Why,  don't  it  say  that  them 
things  is  all  sung  by  artists?" 

"So  they  are." 

"Well,  now,  a  artist,"  said  Tom  Osby  argumenta- 
tively,  "ain't  never  comin'  within  a  thousand  miles 
of  this  here  country.  Besides,  a  artist  is  somebody 
that's  dead." 

"There's  something  in  that,"  admitted  Dan  Ander- 


142  HEART'S  DESIRE 

son.  "You've  got  to  be  dead  to  make  a  really  well- 
preserved,  highly  embalmed  success  in  art,  of  course. 
It's  true  that  in  a  hundred  years  from  now  that  song 
will  be  just  what  it  is  to-day.  That's  Art.  But  I'm 
tellin'  you  the  truth,  Tom.  The  woman  who  sang 
into  that  machine  is  alive  to-day.  She  belongs  to 
a  grand  opera  troupe  under  the  management  of  a 
gent  by  the  name  of  Blaming,  who  is  in  hot  water 
with  these  stars  all  his  life,  but  makes  so  much  money 
out  of  them  that  he  can't  bear  to  be  anything  but 
boiled  continuous. 

"Now,  these  people  are  bound  for  California,  for 
an  early  season.  They  are  goin'  six  hundred  miles  at 
a  jump,  and  they  stop  at  El  Paso  for  a  moment,  to 
catch  a  little  of  their  financial  breath.  The  Southern 
Pacific  raineth  on  the  just  and  the  unjust  in  the  mat- 
ter of  railroad  fares.  Now,  as  they  are  still  goin'  to 
be  too  early  for  the  season  on  the  coast,  Monsieur 
Blauring  has  conceived  in  his  fertile  brain  the  idea 
that  it  will  be  an  interestin'  and  inexpensive  thing 
for  him  to  sidetrack  his  whole  rodeo  for  a  few  weeks 
up  in  the  Sacramentos,  at  the  Sky  Top  hotel,  —  that 
new  railroad  health  resort  some  Yankees  have  just 
built,  for  lungers  and  other  folks  that  have  money 
and  no  pleasure  in  livin'." 

"How  do  you  know  shell  be  there?"  asked  Tom. 

"Well,  this  El  Paso  daily  has  got  about  four  pages 
about  it.  They  think  it's  news,  and  Blauring  thinks 
it's  advertising  so  they're  both  happy.    And  this  very 


HEART'S  DESIRE  143 

lady  who  sang  into  your  tin  horn,  yonder,  will  be 
down  there  at  Sky  Top  just  about  ten  days  from 


Tom  Osby  was  silent.  The  Sacramentos,  as  all 
men  knew,  lay  but  a  hundred  miles  or  so  distant 
by  wagon  trail.  "It  ain't  so,"  said  Tom,  at  length. 
"A  singin'  artist  would  choke  to  death  in  El  Paso. 
The  dust's  a  fright." 

" Oh,  I  reckon  it's  so,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "Now, 
the  bull-ring  over  at  Juarez  would  be  a  fine  place  for 
grand  opera  —  especially  for  ' Carmen' — which,  I 
may  inform  you,  Tom,  is  all  about  a  bull-fight,  any- 
way. Yes,"  he  went  on  softly,  "I  hope  they'll  sing 
'Carmen'  over  there.  I  hope,  also,  they  won't  see 
the  name  on  the  Guggenheim  smelters  and  undertake 
to  give  Wagner  under  a  misapprehension.  If  Blaur- 
ing  has  any  judgment  at  all,  he'll  stick  to  ( Carmen' 
at  El  Paso.  He'd  have  to  hire  a  freight  train  to  get 
away  with  the  money. 

"But  now,"  resumed  he,  "after  they  get  done  at 
El  Paso,  whatever  they  sing,  the  grub  wagon  will  be 
located  in  the  Sacramentos,  while  old  Blauring,  he 
goes  on  in  advance  and  rides  a  little  sign  out  near 
'Frisco  and  other  places,  where  Art  is  patronized 
copious.  Yes,  friend,  ' Annie  Laurie,'  she'll  be  up 
in  Sacramentos;  and  from  all  I  can  figure,  there'll 
be  trouble  in  that  particular  health  resort." 

"Sometimes  I  think  you're  loco,1'  said  Tom  Osby, 
slowly;  "then  again  I  think  you  ain't,  quite.    The 


144  HEART'S  DESIRE 

man  who  allows  he's  any  better  than  this  country 
don't  belong  here;  but  I  didn't  think  you  ever  did." 

"No!"  cried  Dan  Anderson.  "Don't  ever  say 
that  of  me." 

"Of  course,  I  know  folks  is  different,"  went  on 
Tom  Osby,  presently.  "They  come  from  different 
places,  and  have  lived  different  ways.  Me,  I  come 
from  Georgy.  I  never  did  have  much  chanct  for  edu- 
cation, along  of  the  war  breakin'  out.  My  folks  was 
in  the  fightin'  some ;  and  so  I  drifted  here." 

"You  came  from  Georgia?"  asked  Dan  Anderson. 
"I  was  born  farther  north.  I  had  a  little  schooling, 
but  the  only  schooling  I  ever  had  in  all  my  life  that 
was  worth  while,  I  got  right  here  in  Heart's  Desire. 
The  only  real  friends  I  ever  had  are  here. 

"Now,"  he  went  on,  "it's  because  I  feel  that  way, 
and  because  you're  going  to  punch  your  freight  team 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  south  next  week  to  see 
if  you  can  get  a  look  at  that  'Annie  Laurie'  woman 

—  it's  because  of  those  things  that  I  want  to  help 
you  if  I  can.  And  that's  the  truth  —  or  something 
resemblin'  it,  maybe. 

"Now  listen,  Tom.  Madame  Donatelli  is  no  Dago, 
and  she's  not  dead.    She  was  a  Georgia  girl  herself 

—  Alice  Strowbridge  was  her  name,  and  she  had 
naturally  a  wonderful  voice.  She  went  to  Paris  and 
Italy  to  study  long  before  I  came  out  West.  She  first 
sang  in  Milan,  and  her  appearance  was  a  big  success. 
She's  made  thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  145 

"About  how  old  is  she?"  asked  Tom  Osby 

"I  should  think  about  thirty-five/'  said  Dan  An- 
derson.   "  That  is,  counthV  years,  and  not  experience." 

"I'm  just  about  forty-five,"  said  Tom,  "countin' 
both." 

"Well,  she  came  from  Georgia  — " 

"And  so  did  I,"  observed  Tom  Osby,  casually. 

Dan  Anderson  was  troubled.  His  horizon  was 
wider  than  Tom  Osby's. 

"It's  far,  Tom,"  said  he;  "it's  very  far." 

"I  everidge  about  twenty  mile  a  day,"  said  Tom, 
not  wholly  understanding.  "I  can  make  it  in  less'n 
a  week." 

"Tom,"  cried  Dan  Anderson,  "don't!" 

But  Tom  Osby  only  trod  half  a  pace  closer,  in  that 
vague,  never  formulated,  never  admitted  friendship 
of  one  man  for  another  in  a  country  which  held  real 
men. 

"Do  you  know,  Dan,"  said  he,  "if  I  could  just 
onct  in  my  life  hear  that  there  song  right  out  —  her- 
self singin',  words  and  all  —  fiddles,  like  enough; 
maybe  a  pianny,  too  —  if  I  could  just  hear  that! 
If  I  could  just  hear  —  that!" 

"Tom!" 

They  wandered  on  a  way  silently  before  the 
freighter  spoke.  "There  is  some  folks,"  said  he, 
"that  has  to  do  things  for  keeps,  for  the  rest  of  the 
folks  that  can't  do  things  for  keeps.  Some  fellers 
has  to  just  drive  teams,  or  run  a  ore  bucket,  or  play 

L 


146  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  cards,  or  something  else  common  and  useful  — 
world's  sort  of  fixed  up  that  way,  I  reckon.  But 
folks  that  can  do  things  for  keeps  —  I  reckon  they're 
right  proud,  like." 

"Not  if  they  really  do  the  things  that  keep.  That 
sort  ain't  proud,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 

"Now,  I  can  just  see  her  a-settin'  there,"  went  on 
the  freighter.  "It  sounded  like  there  was  fiddles,  and 
horns,  and  piannys  all  around." 

"She  was  maybe  standin'  up." 

"She  was  a-settin'  there,"  said  Tom  Osby,  frown- 
ing; "right  there  at  the  pianny  herself.  Can't  you 
see  her?  Don't  you  ever  sort  of  imagine  things 
yourself,  man?" 

"God  forbid!"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "No,  I  can't 
imagine  things.    That's  fatal — I  try  to  forget  things." 

"Well,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "I  reckon  I've  been  im- 
aginin'  things.  Now,  there  she's  settin',  right  at 
the  pianny,  and  sort  of  lettin'  her  fingers  run  up  and 
down  — " 

"Ira-la-loo-loo,  loo-loo-la-la?"  said  Dan  Ander- 
son. 

"Sure.  That's  just  it.  Tra-la-la-loo,  loo-la-la-la, 
up  and  down  the  whole  shootin'  match.  And  she 
sings!  Now  what  does  she  sing?  That  song  about 
Gingerbread?  That  Mobile  song?  No,  not  none. 
It's  ' Annie  Laurie '  she  sings,  man,  it's  'Annie  Laurie ' ! 
Now,  I  freighted  to  El  Paso  before  the  railroad,  and 
I  know  them  boys.    They'll  tear  up  the  house." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  147 

"She'll  be  wearin'  black  lace  and  diamonds/'  said 
Dan  Anderson,  irrelevantly;  "and  when  she  breathes 
she'll  swell  up  like  a  toy  balloon.  She'll  bat  her 
eyes.    They  got  to  do  those  things." 

"Man,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "there's  times  when  I 
don't  like  you." 

"Well,  then,  cut  out  the  lace.  I'll  even  leave  off 
the  diamonds." 

"She's  settin'  right  there,"  said  Tom  Osby,  wag- 
ging his  forefinger,  "and  she's  dressed  in  white — " 

"With  a  blue  sash—" 

"Sure !  And  she  sings !  And  it's  '  Annie  Laurie' ! 
And  because  I  want  my  own  share  of  things  that's  for 
keeps,  though  I  ain't  one  of  the  sort  that  can  do  things 
for  keeps,  why,  I  want  —  why,  you  see  —  " 

"Yes,  Tom,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  gently,  "I  see. 
Now,  as  you  said,  it's  only  a  few  days'  drive,  after 
all.  I'm  goin'  along  with  you.  There's  watermelons 
near  there — " 

"You  are  loco!" 

"Not  yet,"  said  his  friend.  "I  only  meant  to 
point  out  that  the  best  melons  these  embalmed 
Greasers  raise  in  their  little  tablecloth  farmin'  opera- 
tions is  right  down  there  in  the  valley  at  the  foot  of 
the  Sacramentos.  Now,  you  may  have  noticed  that 
sometimes  a  fellow  ought  to  cover  up  his  tracks. 
What's  to  hinder  you  and  me  just  takin'  a  little 
pasear  down  in  toward  the  Sacramentos,  on  the  south- 
east side,  after  a  load  of  melons  ?    They're  better  than 


148  HEART'S  DESIRE 

cactus  for  the  boys  here.  That's  straight  merchan- 
dising and,  besides,  it's  Art.  And  —  well,  I  think 
that's  the  best  way. 

"We  don't  all  of  us  always  get  our  share,  Tom," 
resumed  Dan  Anderson;  "we  don't  always  get  our 
share  of  the  things  that  are  for  keeps;  but  it's  the 
right  of  every  man  to  try.  Every  once  in  a  while, 
by  just  try  in'  and  pluggin'  along  on  the  dead  square, 
a  fellow  gets  something  which  turns  out  in  the 
clean-up  to  be  the  sort  that  was  for  keeps,  after  all, 
even  if  it  wasn't  just  what  he  thought  he  wanted." 

"Then  you'll  go  along?" 

"Si,  amigo!    Yes,  I'll  go  along." 

They  parted,  Dan  Anderson  to  seek  his  own  lonely 
adobe.  There  he  closed  the  door,  as  though  he  feared 
intrusion.  The  old  restlessness  coming  over  him,  he 
paced  up  and  down  the  narrow,  cagelike  room. 
Presently  he  approached  a  tiny  mirror  that  hung 
upon  the  wall,  and  stood  looking  into  it  intently. 
"Fool!"  he  muttered.  "Liar,  and  fool,  and  coward 
—  you,  you!  You'll  take  care  of  Tom,  will  you? 
But  who'll  take  care  of  you  f  " 

He  seated  himself  on  the  blanketed  bed,  and  picked 
up  the  newspaper  which  he  had  brought  home  with 
him.  He  gazed  long  and  steadily  at  it  before  he  tore 
it  across  and  flung  it  on  the  floor.  It  held  more  news 
than  he  had  given  to  Tom  Osby.  In  brief,  there  was 
a  paragraph  which  announced  the  arrival  in  town  of 
Mr.  John  Ellsworth,  President  of  the  new  A.  P.  and 


HEART'S  DESIRE  149 

S.  E.  Railway,  his  legal  counsel,  Mr.  Porter  Barkley, 
also  of  New  York,  and  Miss  Constance  Ellsworth. 
This  party  was  bound  for  Sky  Top,  where  business 
of  importance  would  in  all  likelihood  be  transacted, 
as  Mr.  Ellsworth  expected  to  meet  there  the  engineers 
on  the  location  of  the  road. 

"I  ought  not  to  go,"  said  Dan  Anderson  to  him- 
self, over  and  over  again.  "  I  must  not  go  . . .  But 
I'm  going !" 


CHAPTER  XI 

OPERA  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Telling  how  Two  Innocent  Travellers  by  mere  Chance  collided 
with  a  Side-tracked  Star 

Many  miles  of  sand  and  silence  lay  between  Heart's 
Desire  and  Sky  Top,  by  the  winding  trail  over  the 
high  plateau  and  in  among  the  foot-hills  of  the  Sacra- 
mentos.  The  silence  was  unbroken  by  any  music 
from  the  "heavenly  maid,"  which  lay  disused  be- 
neath the  wagon  seat;  nor  did  the  two  occupants  of 
Tom  Osby's  freight  wagon  often  emerge  from  the 
reticence  habitual  in  a  land  where  spaces  were  vast, 
men  infrequent,  and  mountains  ever  looking  down. 
The  team  of  gnarled  gray  horses  kept  on  their  steady 
walk,  hour  after  hour,  and  day  after  day ;  and  bivouac 
after  bivouac  lay  behind  them,  marked  by  the  rude 
heap  of  brush  piled  up  at  night  as  an  excuse  for 
shelter  against  the  wind  or  by  the  tiny  circle  of  ashes 
where  had  been  a  small  but  sufficient  fire.  At  last 
the  line  of  the  bivouacs  ended,  far  up  toward  the 
crest  of  the  heavily  timbered  Sacramentos,  after  a 
weary  climb  through  miles  of  mountain  canons. 

"We'll  stop  at  the  lowest  spring,"  said  Tom  Osby, 
who  knew  the  country  of  old.    "That'll  leave  us  a 

150 


HEART'S  DESIRE  151 

half  mile  or  so  from  where  they've  built  their  fool 
log  hotel.  It  beats  the  dickens  how  these  States 
folks,  that  lives  in  cities,  is  always  tryin'  to  imertate 
some  other  way  of  livin'.  Why  didn't  they  build  it 
out  of  boards?  They've  got  a  saw-mill,  blame  'em, 
and  they're  cuttin'  off  all  the  timber  in  these  moun- 
tings; but  they  got  to  have  logs  to  build  their  house 
with.  Folks  that  builds  real  log  houses,  and  not  toys, 
does  it  because  they  ain't  got  no  boards.  But  these 
States  folks  always  was  singerler." 

By  this  time  Tom  Osby  was  unhitching  and  feed- 
ing his  team,  and  throwing  out  the  blanket  rolls  upon 
the  ground.  "Go  easy  on  the  'Annie  Laurie'  ma- 
chine there,"  called  out  Dan  Anderson,  hearing  a 
suspicious  rattling  of  brass  against  the  wagon  box. 
But  his  companion  heeded  him  little,  casting  the 
phonograph  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  where  the  great 
horn  swung  wide,  disconsolately. 

"A  imertation,"  said  Tom,  "is  like  I  'was  just 
sayin'.    It  ain't  the  real  thing. 

"Now  look  here,  friend,"  he  went  on  a  moment 
later,  "you've  got  to  do  like  you  said  you  would. 
Of  course,  I  know  melons  don't  grow  up  here  in  tb  e 
pine  mountains,  even  if  they  was  ripe  yet;  but  you 
said  you  was  comin'  along  to  see  fair  play,  and  you 
got  to  do  it." 

Dan  Anderson  looked  at  him  queerly.  "Wait," 
said  he;  "it'll  be  night  before  long.  Then  you  go 
on  up  to  the  house,  and  prospect  around  a  little.    If 


152  HEART'S  DESIRE 

you  get  scared,  come  back,  and  I'll  —  I'll  take  care 
of  you.  I'll  be  around  here  somewhere,  so  you 
needn't  be  afraid  to  go  right  on  in  alone,  you  know. 
Tell  her  you  know  her  preserved  songs,  and  liked 
them  so  much  you  just  had  to  come  down  here.  Tell 
her  about  the  watermelons.    Tell  her  — " 

"You're  actin'  a  leetle  nervous  your  own  self,  man," 
said  Tom  Osby,  keenly.  "But  you  watch  Papa.  I 
been  married  four  times,  or  maybe  five,  so  what's 
a  woman  here  or  there  to  me  ?  What  is  there  to  any 
woman  to  scare  a  feller,  anyway?" 

"I'm  damned  if  I  know!"  replied  Dan  Anderson; 
—  "  there  isn't  —  of  course  there  isn't,  of  course  not. 
You're  perfectly  safe.  Why,  just  go  right  on  up. 
Have  your  sand  along !" 

"Sure,"  said  Tom  Osby.  "All  right;  I'll  just 
mosey  along  up  the  trail  after  a  while." 

And  after  a  while  he  did  depart,  alone,  leaving  Dan 
Anderson  sitting  on  the  wagon  tongue.  "You  come 
up  after  a  while,  Dan,"  he  called  back.  "If  you 
don't  hear  nothing  from  me,  you'd  better  stroll  along 
up  and  view  the  remains." 

Madame  Alicia  Donatelli  paced  up  and  down  the 
long  room  in  the  somewhat  dismal  hotel  building 
which  constituted  the  main  edifice  of  Sky  Top.  She 
was  in  effect  a  prisoner.  El  Paso  seemed  like  a 
dream,  San  Francisco  a  figment  of  the  brain,  and 
New  York  a  wholly  imaginary  spot  upon  some  undis- 
covered planet,  lost  in  the  nebulous  universe  of  space. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  153 

She  trod  the  uneven  floor  as  some  creature  caged,  on 
her  face  that  which  boded  no  good  to  the  next  comer, 
whoever  he  might  be. 

The  next  comer  was  Signor  Peruchini,  the  tenor. 
Unhappy  Peruchini!  He  started  back  from  the 
ominous  swish  of  the  Donatelli  gown,  the  deep  ca- 
dence of  the  Donatelli  voice,  the  restless  Donatelli 
walk,  now  resumed. 

"How  dare  you!"  cried  the  diva.  "How  dare 
you  intrude  on  me?" 

"  The  saints ! "  cried  Signor  Peruchini.  "  What  ser- 
vice is  zere  here?  I  knock,  but  you  do  not  hear. 
Madame,  what  horror  is  zis  place!" 

"Ah,  that  Blauring!"  cried  Madame  Donatelli,  in 
her  rage.  "  The  beast !  How  dare  he  bring  me  here 
—  me/"  (she  smote  her  bosom) — "who  have  sung  in 
the  grand  in  the  best  houses  of  the  Continent  —  in 
Italy,  Paris,  London,  St.  Petersburg!  I  shall  not 
survive  this!" 

"Perfide!"  cried  Peruchini,  in  assent.  "Perfide! 
R-r-rascal!    Cochon!    Pig  unspikkab' ! " 

"But,  madame,"  he  resumed,  with  gestures  and 
intonations  suitable  for  the  scene.  "  Behole !  It  is 
I  who  have  lofe  you  so  long.  To  lofe  —  ah,  it  is  so 
divine!    How  can  you  rifTuse ? " 

Madame  Donatelli  withdrew  with  proper  operatic 
dignity.  "Never!"  she  cried.  "You  have  suffi- 
ciently persecuted  me  ere  this.  I  bid  you  go. 
Begone!" 


154  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Vooman,  you  mad  meh!"  cried  Peruchini,  rush- 
ing forward,  his  hands  first  extended  with  palms  up- 
ward, then  clenched,  his  hair  properly  tumbled,  his 
eyes  correctly  rolling.  "  I  vill  not  be  teniet !  Your 
puty,  it  is  too  much!  Vooman,  vooman,  ah,  have 
you  no  harret?    Py  Heaven,  I — " 

With  a  swift  motion  he  grasped  her  wrists.  Color 
rose  to  the  Donatelli  cheek.  Her  eyes  flashed.  She 
was  about  to  sing.  She  checked  herself  in  time. 
"Unhand  me,  sir !"  she  cried. 

The  two  wrestled  back  and  forth,  their  hands  inter- 
twined. And  now  the  log  fire,  seeing  the  lack  of 
better  footlights,  blazed  up  loyally  to  light  for  them 
this  unusual  stage.  They  did  not  hear  the  door  open 
behind  them,  did  not  hear  the  click  of  high  boot- 
heels  on  the  floor,  as  there  came  toward  them  an 
unbidden  spectator,  who  had  by  some  slack  servant 
been  directed  thither. 

The  door  did  open.  In  it  stood  Tom  Osby,  unan- 
nounced. He  was  dressed  in  his  best,  which  was  not 
quite  so  picturesque  as  his  worst,  but  which  did  not 
disguise  him  nor  the  region  which  was  his  home.  His 
boots  were  new,  sharp  at  toe  and  heel.  His  hat,  now 
removed,  was  new,  but  wide  and  white.  His  coat 
was  loose,  and  under  it  there  was  no  waistcoat, 
neither  did  white  collar  confine  his  neck. 

A  quick  glance  took  in  the  scene  before  him.  A 
little  dark  man  was  contending  with  a  superb  female 
of  the  most  regally  imperious  beauty  that  he  had 


HEART'S  DESIRE  155 

ever  seen  or  dreamed.  Tom  Osby  stepped  a  swift 
pace  into  the  room.  There  had  come  to  his  ear  the 
note  of  a  rich,  deep  voice  that  brought  an  instant 
conviction.  This  —  this  was  the  Voice  that  he  had 
worshipped!  This  was  that  divine  being  whom  he 
had  heard  and  seen  in  so  many  sweet  imaginings  in 
the  hot  days  and  sweet,  silent  nights  afar  in  the  desert 
lands.  She  was  assailed.  She  was  beset.  There 
swept  over  him  the  swift  instinct  for  action  which 
was  a  part  of  life  in  that  corner  of  the  world.  In  a 
flash  his  weapon  leaped  from  its  scabbard,  and  an 
unwavering,  shining  silver  point  covered  the  figure 
of  this  little,  dark  man,  now  obviously  guilty  of  sac- 
rilege unspeakable. 

"  Git  back,  you  feller ! "  cried  Tom  Osby.  "  Leggo ! 
What  are  you  doin'  there  ?  Break,  now,  and  git  out. 
This  ain't  right." 

And  that  was  all  he  ever  knew  of  Signor  Peruchini, 
for  the  latter  sprang  back  and  away  into  an  imme- 
diate oblivion.  Tom  Osby  from  that  instant  was  him- 
self swept  on  by  the  glory  of  this  woman's  presence. 
Confronting  her,  he  stood  half  trembling,  at  once 
almost  longing  for  warlike  action  rather  than  tKt 
now  grown  needful. 

Madame  Donatelli,  for  the  first  time  in  years  jarred 
from  the  standards  of  her  artificial  life,  and  so,  sud- 
denly, become  woman  rather  than  actress,  fell  into 
a  seat,  turning  toward  the  newcomer  a  gaze  of  wide- 
eyed  astonishment.    She  had  read  in  certain  journals 


156  HEART'S  DESIRE 

wild  stories  of  doings  of  wild  men.  Was  that  sort  of 
thing  actually  true  ? 

"Sir/'  she  said,  "how  dare  you!"  At  this,  Tom 
Osby  stood  upon  one  leg. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"I  didn't  know  anybody  was  in  here.  I  just  come  in 
lookin'  for  somebody." 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  turned  upon  him  the 
full  glance  of  a  deep,  dark  eye,  studying  him  curiously. 

"I  don't  live  here,  ma'am,"  resumed  Tom.  "I'm 
camped  down  the  hill  by  the  spring.  I  left  my  com- 
padre  there.  I  —  I  belong  to  Heart's  Desire,  up  north 
of  here.  I  —  I  come  along  in  here  this  mornin'. 
They  said  there  wasn't  any  one  in  the  parlor  —  they 
said  there  might  be  some  one  in  the  parlor,  though, 
maybe.  And  I  was  —  I  was  —  ma'am,  I  was  lookin' 
—  I  reckon  I  was  lookin'  for  you!" 

He  laid  his  hat  and  gun  upon  the  table,  and  stood 
with  one  hand  against  its  edge.  "  Yes,  I  come  down 
from  Heart's  Desire,"  be  began  again. 

"From  where?"  broke  in  a  low,  sweet  voice. 
"From  Heart's  Desire?  What  an  exquisite  name! 
Where  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  That  sounds  like  heaven," 
she  said. 

"It  might  be,  ma'am,"  said  Tom  Osby,  simply, 
"but  it  ain't.  The  water  supply  ain't  reg'lar  enough. 
It's  just  a  little  place  up  in  the  mountains.  Heaven, 
ma'am,  I  reckon  is  just  now  located  something  like 
a  hundred  miles  south  of  Heart's  Desire!"    And  he 


HEART'S  DESIRE  157 

laughed  so  sudden  and  hearty  a  man's  laugh  at  this 
that  it  jostled  Alicia  Donatelli  out  of  all  her  artifi- 
ciality, and  set  the  two  at  once  upon  a  footing.  It 
seemed  to  her  that,  after  all,  men  were  pretty  much 
alike,  no  matter  where  one  found  them. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  ceasing  to  bite  at  her  finger- 
tips, as  was  her  habit  when  perturbed.  "Tell  me 
about  Heart's  Desire." 

"Well,  Heart's  Dqsire,  ma'am,"  said  Tom  Osby, 
"why,  it  ain't  much.    It's  mostly  men." 

"  But  how  do  you  live  ?    What  do  you  do  f  " 

"Well,  now,  I  hadn't  ever  thought  of  that.  But 
now  you  mention  it,  I  can't  say  I  really  know.  The 
fellers  all  seem  to  get  along,  somehow." 

"But  yourself?" 

"  Me  ?  I  drive  a  freight  wagon  between  Las  Vegas 
and  Heart's  Desire.  There  is  stores,  you  know,  at 
Heart's  Desire,  and  a  saloon.  We  held  a  co'te  there, 
onct.  You  see,  along  of  cattle  wars  and  killings,  for 
a  good  many  years  back,  folks  has  been  kind  of  shy 
of  that  part  of  the  country.  Most  of  the  men  easy 
scared,  they  went  back  home  to  the  States.  Some 
stayed.  And  it's  —  why,  I  can't  rightly  explain  it 
to  you,  ma'am  —  but  it's  —  it's  Heart's  Desire." 

The  face  of  the  woman  before  him  softened.  "It's 
a  beautiful  name,"  said  she.  "  Heart's  Desire ! "  She 
said  it  over  and  over  again,  wistfully.  The  cadence 
of  her  tone  was  the  measure  of  an  irrevocable  loss. 
" Heart's  Desire ! "  she  whispered  —  "I  wonder  — 


158  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Tell  me,"  she  cried  at  length,  arising  and  pacing 
restlessly,  "what  do  you  do  at  Heart's  Desire?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Tom  Osby.  "I  just  told  you,  I 
reckon." 

"Do  you  have  any  amusements?  Are  there  ever 
any  entertainments?" 

"Why,  law!  no,  ma'am!" 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed.  There  rose 
before  her  the  picture  of  a  primitive  world,  whose 
swift  appeal  clutched  at  her  heart,  saturated  and  sated 
with  unreal  things  grown  banal. 

"Besides,"  went  on  Tom  Osby,  "if  we  had  an 
op'ry  house,  it  wouldn't  do  no  good.  Why  —  I 
don't  want  to  be  imperlite,  but  I've  heard  that  op'ry 
singers  cost  as  high  as  ten  dollars  a  night,  or  maybe 
more.  We  couldn't  afford  it.  Onct  we  had  a  singin'- 
school  teacher.  Fellow  by  the  name  of  Dawes  come 
in  there  from  Kansas,  and  he  taught  music.  He  used 
to  sing  a  song  called  the  '  Sword  of  Bunker  Hill.'  Used 
to  have  a  daughter,  and  she  sung,  too.  Her  favoright 
song  was  'Rosalie,  the  Prairie  Flower.'  They  made 
quite  a  lot  of  money  holdin'  singin'-school.  The  gal, 
she  got  married  and  moved  to  Tularosa,  and  that  broke 
up  the  singin'-school.  There  ain't  been  any  kind 
of  show  at  Heart's  Desire  for  five  years.  But  say, 
ma'am,"  he  interrupted,  "about  that  feller  that  had 
hold  of  you  when  I  come  in.    Did  he  hurt  you  any?" 

"  That's  our  leading  tenor,  Signor  Peruchini !  He's 
a  great  artist. "    She  laughed,  a  ripple  of  soft,  deli- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  159 

cious  laughter.  "  No,  don't  bother  him.  We'll  need 
him  out  on  the  Coast.  Don't  you  know,  we  are  just 
here  in  the  mountains  for  a  little  while." 

"Don't  you  like  these  mountings,  ma'am?"  asked 
Tom  Osby,  sinking  back  into  his  seat.  "I  always 
did.  They  always  remind  me  of  the  Smokies,  in 
Car'lina,  back  South." 

"You  came  from  the  South?" 

"Georgy,  ma'am." 

"Georgia !  So  did  I !  We  should  be  friends,"  she 
said,  and,  smiling,  held  out  her  hand.  Tom  Osby 
took  it. 

"Ma'am,"  said  he,  gravely,  "I'm  right  glad  to  see 
you.  I've  not  been  back  home  for  a  good  many  years. 
I've  been  all  over." 

"Nor  have  I  been  home,"  said  she,  sadly.  "I've 
been  all  over,  too.  But  now,  what  brought  you  here  ? 
Tell  me,  did  you  want  to  see  me?" 

"Yes!"  Tom  Osby  answered  simply.  "I  said 
that's  why  I  come!" 

"You  want  me  to  come  up  to  Heart's  Desire  to 
sing?    Ah,  I  wish  that  were  not  impossible." 

"No,  there's  no  one  sent  me,"  said  Tom  Osby. 
"Though,  of  course,  the  boys  would  do  anything  for 
you  they  could.  What  we  want  in  Heart's  Desire  — 
why,  sometimes  I  think  it's  nothing,  and  then,  again, 
everything.  Maybe  we  didn't  want  any  music;  and 
then,  again,  maybe  we  was  just  sick  and  pinin'  for 
it,  and  didn't  know  it." 


160  HEART'S  DESIRE 

She  looked  at  him  intently  as  he  bent  his  head,  his 
face  troubled.  "Listen/'  said  he,  at  length.  "I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it.  Up  at  Vegas  I  heard  a  funny 
sort  of  singin'  machine.  It  had  voices  in  it.  Ma'am, 
it  had  a  Voice  in  it.  It  —  it  sung — "  he  choked 
now. 

"And  some  of  the  songs ?" 

Strangely  enough,  he  understood  the  question  of 
her  eyes.  She  flushed  like  a  girl  as  he  nodded  gravely. 
"  'Annie  Laurie,'  "  he  said. 

"I  am  very  glad,"  said  she,  with  a  long  breath. 
"  It  reconciles  me  to  selling  my  art  in  that  way.  No, 
I'm  very  glad,  quite  outside  of  that." 

Tom  Osby  did  not  quite  follow  all  her  thoughts, 
but  he  went  on. 

"It  was  ' Annie  Laurie,'"  said  he.  "I  knew  you 
sung  it.  Ma'am,  I  played  her  all  the  way  from  Vegas 
down." 

"But  why  did  you  come?"  She  was  cruel;  but  a 
woman  must  have  her  toll.  The  renewed  answer  cost 
courage  of  Tom  Osby. 

"Ma'am,"  said  he,  "I  won't  lie  to  you.  I  just 
come  to  see  you,  or  to  hear  you,  I  can't  rightly  tell 
which.  It  must  have  been  both."  Now  he  arose 
and  flung  out  a  hand,  rudely  but  eloquently. 
"Ma'am,"  he  went  on,  "I  knowed  you  come  from 
Georgy  onct,  the  same  as  me.  And  I  knowed  that  a 
Georgy  girl,  someway,  somewhere,  somehow,  would 
have  a  soft  spot  in  her  heart.    I  come  to  hear  you 


HEART'S  DESIRE  161 

sing.  There's  things  that  us  fellers  want,  some- 
times." 

The  woman  before  him  drew  a  deep,  long  breath. 

"I  reckon  you'll  have  to  sing  again/'  the  man  went 
on.  "You'll  have  to  sing  that  there  song,  'Annie 
Laurie,'  like  I  heard  it  more  than  onct,  before  I  went 
away  from  home." 

The  soft  Georgia  speech  came  back  to  his  tongue, 
and  she  followed  it  herself,  unconsciously. 

"My  friend,"  said  she,  "you're  right.  I  reckon 
I'll  have  to  sing." 

"When?"  said  Tom  Osby. 

"Now,"  said  Alice  Strowbridge.  She  rose  and 
stepped  toward  the  piano  open  near  the  fire. 

The  color  was  full  on  her  cheek  now;  the  jewels 
glanced  now  above  a  deep  bosom  laboring  in  no  coun- 
terfeit emotion.  A  splendid  creature,  bedecked,  be- 
jewelled, sex  all  over,  magnificent,  terrible,  none  the 
less,  although  the  eyes  of  Alice  Strowbridge  shone 
sombrely,  her  hands  twined  together  in  embarrass- 
ment, as  they  did  the  first  time  she  sang  in  public  as 
a  child.  The  very  shoulders  under  the  heavy  laces 
caught  a  plaintive  droop,  learned  in  no  role  of  Mar- 
guerite in  any  land.  The  red  rose  at  her  hair  —  the 
rose  got  from  some  mysterious  source  —  half  trem- 
bled. Fear,  a  great  fear  —  the  first  stage  fright 
known  in  years  —  swept  over  Alice  Strowbridge,  late 
artist,  and  now  woman.  There  sat  upon  her  soul  a 
sense  of  unpreparedness  for  this  new  Public,  this  lone 


162  HEART'S  DESIRE 

man  from  a  mysterious  land  called  Heart's  Desire 
—  a  place  where  men,  actual  men,  earnest  men,  were 
living,  vaguely  yearning  for  that  which  was  not  theirs. 
She  felt  them  gazing  into  her  soul,  asking  how  she 
had  guarded  the  talents,  how  she  had  prized  the  jewels 
given  her,  what  she  had  done  for  the  heart  of  human- 
ity. Halfway  across  the  floor  she  stopped,  her  hand 
at  her  throat. 

"I  know  this  here  is  right  funny,"  said  Tom  Osby, 
misunderstanding,  "for  me  to  do  this-a-way.  It's 
right  embarrassin'  for  a  lady  like  you  to  try  to  oblige 
a  feller  like  me.  But,  ma'am,  all  I  can  say  is,  all  the 
boys'll  be  mightily  obliged  to  you." 

She  flashed  upon  him  a  smile  which  had  tears  in 
it.     Tom  Osby  grew  more  confident,  more  bold. 

"Ma'am,"  said  he,  clearing  his  throat,  "I  want  you 
to  forgive  me;  but  I  reckon  how,  when  you  great 
people  sing  different  things,  you-all  sort  of  dress  up, 
different  like,  at  different  times,  accordin'  to  the 
things  you  are  singin'  right  then.    Ain't  that  so?" 

"We  have  many  costumes,"  said  she,  simply. 
"We  play  many  parts.  Sometimes  we  hardly  know 
we  are  ourselves." 

"  And  when  you  sung  that  'Annie  Laurie '  song,  did 
you  have  any  coschume  to  go  along  with  that?" 

"You  mean —  " 

"Well,  now,  ma'am,  when  us  fellers  was  talkin' 
it  over,  it  always  seemed  to  us,  somehow,  like  the 
Annie  Laurie  coschume  was  right  white."    He  blushed 


HEART'S  DESIRE  163 

and  hastened  to  apologize.  "Not  sayin'  anything 
against  that  dress  you've  got  on/'  he  said.  "I  never 
saw  one  as  fine  as  that  in  all  my  life.  I  never  saw 
any  woman,  never  in  all  my  life,  like  you.  I  —  I  — 
ma'am"  —  he  flushed,  but  went  on  with  a  Titanic 
simplicity  —  ' '  I  worship  you,  right  where  you  stand, 
in  that  there  dress;    but  —  could  you  —  " 

"You  are  an  artist  yourself!"  cried  she.  "Yes! 
Wait!" 

In  an  instant  she  was  gone  from  the  room,  leaving 
Tom  Osby  staring  at  the  flickering  fire,  now  brighter 
in  the  advancing  shades  of  evening.  In  perhaps  half 
an  hour  Alice  Strowbridge  reappeared.  The  rich 
black  laces,  and  the  ripe  red  rose,  and  the  blazing 
jewels,  all  were  gone.  She  was  clad  in  simple  white 
—  and  yes !  a  blue  sash  was  there.  The  piled  masses 
of  her  hair  were  replaced  by  two  long,  glossy  braids. 
By  the  grace  of  the  immortal  gods  all  misdeeds  were 
lifted  from  her  that  night.  For  once  in  many  years 
she  was  sincere.  Now  she  was  a  girl  again,  and 
back  at  the  old  home.  Those  were  the  southern 
mountains  half  hidden  in  the  twilight;  and  yonder 
was  the  moon  of  the  old  days,  swinging  up  again. 
There  was  the  gallery  at  the  window  of  the  old  Georgia 
home,  and  the  gate,  and  the  stairs,  and  the  hedge- 
row, and  the  trailing  vines,  and  the  voices  of  little 
birds;  and  Youth  —  Youth,  the  unspeakable  glory 
of  Youth  —  it  all  was  hers  once  more !  The  souls  of 
a  thousand    Georgia    mocking-birds  —  the    soul   of 


164  HEART'S  DESIRE 

that  heritage  which  came  to  her  out  of  her  environ- 
ment —  lay  in  her  throat  that  hour. 

And  so,  not  to  an  audience,  but  to  an  auditor  — 
nay,  perhaps,  after  all,  to  the  audience  of  Heart's 
Desire,  an  audience  of  unsated  souls  —  she  sang, 
although  of  visible  audience  there  was  but  one  man, 
who  sat  crumpled  up,  shaken,  undone. 

She  could  not,  being  a  woman,  oblige  any  man  by 
direct  compliance;  she  could  not  deprive  herself  of 
her  own  little  triumph.  Or  perhaps,  deliberately, 
she  sought  to  give  this  solitary  listener  that  which 
it  would  have  cost  thousands  of  dollars  for  a  wider 
public  to  hear.  She  sang  first  the  leading  arias  of  her 
more  prominent  operatic  roles.  She  sang  the  Page's 
song,  which  had  been  hers  in  her  first  appearance 
on  a  critical  stage.  "  Nobil  signors,"  she  sang,  her 
voice  lingering.  And  then  presently  there  fell  from 
her  lips  the  sparkling  measures  of  Coquette,  inde- 
scribably light,  indescribably  brilliant  in  her  rendi- 
tion. Melody  after  melody,  score  after  score,  product 
of  the  greatest  composers  of  the  world,  she  gave 
to  a  listener  who  never  definitely  realized  what  priv- 
ilege had  been  his.  She  slipped  on  and  on,  forgetting 
herself,  revelling,  dreaming;  and  it  was  proof  at 
least  of  the  Alice  Strowbridge  which  might  have  been, 
that  there  came  to  her  fingers  and  her  throat  that 
night  no  sound  of  cheap  sensuous  melody,  no  florid 
triviality  from  any  land.  With  a  voice  which  had 
mastered  the  world,  she  sang  the  best  of  the  masters 


HEART'S  DESIRE  165 

of  the  world.  So  music,  with  all  its  wooing,  its 
invitation,  its  challenge,  its  best  appeal,  for  a  time 
filled  and  thrilled  this  strange  auditorium,  until 
forsooth  later  comers  might,  as  was  the  story,  indeed 
have  found  jewels  caught  there  in  the  chinks  of  the 
rude-hewn  walls. 

All  at  once  the  voice  of  the  artist,  the  subsidiary 
voice  of  the  piano  broke,  dropped,  and  paused.  And 
then,  with  no  more  interlude,  that  great  instrument, 
a  perfect  human  voice,  in  the  throat  of  a  perfect 
human  woman,  swept  gently  into  the  melody  of  the 
old  song  of  "Annie  Laurie."  At  the  beginning  of  it 
there  was  a  schoolgirl  of  Georgia,  and  a  freighter  of 
the  Plains,  and  at  the  end  of  it  there  was  a  woman 
with  bowed  head,  and  a  man  silent,  whose  head  also 
was  bowed. 

Neither  of  the  two  in  the  great  room  heard  the 
footfalls  of  one  who  approached  in  the  dusk  across 
the  puncheon  floor  of  the  wide  gallery.  Dan  Ander- 
son, for  reasons  of  his  own,  had  also  come  on  up  the 
trail  to  the  hotel.  Perhaps  he  intended  to  make 
certain  inquiries ;  but  he  never  got  even  so  far  as  the 
door.  The  voice  of  Donatelli  caught  and  held  him 
as  it  had  her  other  auditor.  He  stopped  midway  of 
the  gallery,  listened  to  the  very  last  note,  then  turned 
and  quietly  stole  away,  returning  to  the  lonely  bivouac 
beneath  the  pines.  He  started  even  at  the  whisper- 
ings of  the  trees,  as  he  threw  down  his  blankets  beside 
the  little  fire.    He  could  not  sleep.    A  face  looked 


166  HEART'S  DESIRE 

at  him  out  of  the  dark,  eyes  gazed  down  at  him, 
instead  of  stars,  out  of  the  heavens.  The  night,  and 
the  stars,  and  the  pines,  and  the  desert  wind  re- 
proached him  for  his  faithlessness  to  themselves  as 
comforters;  but  abjectly  he  admitted  he  could  make 
no  plea,  save  that  he  had  heard  once  more  of  a  Face 
that  was  the  Fairest. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  slow  footsteps  after  a  time. 
It  was  Tom  Osby,  who  came  and  sat  down  by  the 
fire,  poking  tobacco  into  his  pipe  with  a  crooked 
finger,  and  smoking  on  with  no  glance  at  the  recum- 
bent figure  on  the  camper's  bed.  Yet  the  outdoor 
sense  of  Tom  Osby  told  him  that  his  companion  was 
not  asleep. 

"I  was  just  thinkin',"  said  Tom  Osby,  at  length, 
scarce  turning  his  head  as  he  accosted  Dan  Anderson, 
"that  since  watermelons  don't  grow  very  much  up 
here  in  the  mountings,  we  might  take  a  load  of  pas- 
sengers back  home  with  us." 

11  Passengers?"    A  voice  came  from  the  blankets. 

"Yes.  Whole  bunch  of  them  railroad  folks  comin' 
up  on  the  mornin'  train  from  El  Paso.  Old  man  and 
the  girl  both,  and  a  lawyer  fellow,  Barkley,  I  believe 
his  name  is.    I  reckon  he's  attoreney  for  the  road." 

Deep  silence  greeted  this.  Tom  reached  forward 
and  picked  up  a  brand  to  light  his  pipe  more  thor- 
oughly. 

"I  just  want  to  thank  you,"  said  he,  "for  comin' 
along  down  here  to  take  care  of  me." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  PRICE  OF  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Concerning  Goods,  their  Value,  and  the  Delivery  of  the 

Same 

In  the  morning  the  travellers  arose  with  the  sun, 
and  after  breakfast  Tom  Osby  began  methodically 
to  break  camp  as  though  preparing  for  the  return 
up-country.  Neither  made  reference  to  any  event 
occurring  since  their  arrival,  or  which  might  possibly 
occur  in  the  near  future.  Dan  Anderson  silently 
watched  his  partner  as  he  busied  himself  gearing  up 
his  horses.  All  was  nearly  ready  for  the  start  on  their 
journey  down  the  east  side  of  the  Sacramentos,  when 
they  heard  afar  a  faint  and  wheezy  squeak,  the 
whistle  of  a  railway  train  climbing  up  the  opposite 
slope. 

"  There's  the  choo-choo  cars,"  said  Tom,  "comhV 
a-rarin'  and  a-pitchin'.  The  ingine  has  to  side-step 
and  back- track  about  eight  times  to  get  up  the  grade. 
Didn't  notice  my  old  grays  a-doin'  that  none,  when 
we  come  up,  did  you?  I'm  the  railroad  for  our 
town,  and  I've  got  that  one  beat  to  a  frazzle.  Now 
listen  to  that  thing,  Dan;  that's  the  States  comin' 
to  find  us  out."     Dan  Anderson  made  no  reply. 

167 


168  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Well,  let  her  come/'  Tom  resumed  cheerfully; 
"I  come  from  Georgy,  and  in  that  country,  it  ain't 
considered  perlite  to  worry  if  you've  got  one  square 
meal  ahead.  Which,  by  the  way,  reminds  me  that 
that's  about  all  we've  got  ahead  now.  You  just  set 
here  with  the  team  a  while,  while  I  take  a  pasear  down 
the  canon  to  see  if  I  can  get  a  deer  for  supper  to-night. 
I  hope  the  old  railroad  ain't  scared  'em  all  away. 
Besides,  we  might  as  well  stay  here  for  a  hour  or  so 
anyway,  now,  and  see  what  the  news  is,  since  the 
cars  has  got  in." 

He  tapped  the  muzzle  of  his  old  rifle  against  the 
wagon  wheel  to  shake  out  the  dust,  and  then  took  a 
squint  into  the  barrel.  "I  can  see  through  her," 
he  said,  "or  any  ways,  halfway  through,  and  I 
reckon  she'll  go  off."  Next  he  poked  the  magazine 
full  of  cartridges,  and  so  tramped  off  down  the 
mountain  side. 

Dan  Anderson  sat  down  on  a  bundle  of  bedding, 
and  fell  into  a  half  dream  in  the  warm  morning  sun. 
There  was  time  even  yet  for  him  to  escape,  he  re- 
flected. He  had  but  to  step  into  the  wagon,  and 
drive  on  down  the  canon.  Constance  Ellsworth  — 
if  indeed  it  were  true  that  she  had  come  again 
so  near  to  him  —  need  never  know  that  he  had 
been  there.  How  could  he  learn  if  she  had  indeed 
come  ?  How  could  he  ever  face  her  now  ?  Surely  she 
could  never  understand.  She  could  only  despise 
him.      Dan  Anderson  sat,  irresolute,  staring  at  the 


HEART'S  DESIRE  169 

breakfast  dishes  piled  near  the  mess-box  ready  for 
packing. 

Meantime,  in  the  dining  room  at  Sky  Top  hotel, 
there  was  a  certain  flutter  of  excitement  as  there 
entered,  just  from  the  train,  the  party  of  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, president  of  the  new  railway  company  now 
building  northward.  Ellsworth  beckoned  Porter 
Barkley  to  him  for  talk  of  business  nature,  so  that 
Constance  sat  well-nigh  alone  when  Madame  Alicia 
Donatelli  came  sweeping  in,  tall,  comely,  sombre, 
and,  it  must  be  confessed,  hungry.  Donatelli  hesi- 
tated politely,  and  Constance  made  room  for  her 
with  a  smile  and  gesture,  which  disarmed  the  Dona- 
telli hostility  for  all  well-garbed  and  well-poised  young 
women  of  class  other  than  her  own. 

"And  you're  going  up  the  country  still  farther?" 
asked  Donatelli,  catching  a  remark  made  by  one  of 
the  men.  "I  wish  I  could  go  as  well.  You  go  by 
buckboard?" 

Constance  nodded.  "I  like  it,"  said  she.  "I  am 
sure  we  shall  enjoy  the  ride  up  to  Heart's  Desire." 

"Heart's  Desire?"  repeated  the  diva,  with  an  odd 
smile. 

Constance  saw  the  smile  and  challenged  it.  "  Yes," 
she  replied  briefly,  "I  was  there  once  before." 

"What  is  it  like?"  asked  Donatelli. 

"Like  nothing  in  the  world  —  yet  it's  just  a  little 
valley  shut  in  by  the  mountains." 

"A  man  was  here  from  Heart's  Desire  last  night," 


170  HEART'S  DESIRE 

began  Donatelli.  "You  know,  I  am  a  singer.  He 
had  heard  in  some  way.  My  faith !  He  came  more 
than  a  hundred  miles,  and  he  said  from  Heart's 
Desire.    I've  wondered  what  the  place  was  like." 

The  Donatelli  face  flushed  hotly  in  spite  of  herself. 
A  queer  expression  suddenly  crossed  that  of  Con- 
stance Ellsworth  as  well.  She  wondered  who  this 
man  could  be ! 

"It  was  just  a  couple  of  campers  who  travelled 
down  by  wagon,"  explained  the  diva.  "Only  one 
of  them  came  up  to  the  house.  Their  camp  is  by  the 
springs,  a  half  mile  or  so  down  the  east  side.  He 
told  me  they  had  no  music  at  Heart's  Desire." 

In  the  heart  of  Constance  Ellsworth  there  went 
on  jealous  questionings.  Who  was  this  man  from 
Heart's  Desire,  who  had  come  a  hundred  miles  to 
hear  a  bit  of  music  ?  What  other  could  it  be  than  one  ? 
And  as  to  this  opera  singer,  surely  she  was  beautiful, 
she  had  charm.    So  then  — 

Constance  excused  herself  and  returned  to  her 
room.  She  did  not  even  descend  to  say  farewell  to 
Donatelli  and  her  bedraggled  company,  who  steamed 
away  from  Sky  Top  slopes  in  the  little  train  whose 
whistlings  came  back  triumphantly.  She  admitted 
herself  guilty  of  ignoble  joy  that  this  woman  —  a 
singer,  an  artist,  a  beautiful  and  dangerous  woman 
as  she  felt  sure  —  was  now  gone  out  of  her  presence, 
as  indeed  she  was  gone  out  of  her  life.  But  as  to 
this  man  from  Heart's  Desire,  how  came  it  that  he 


HEART'S  DESIRE  171 

was  not  here  at  the  hotel,  near  to  his  operatic  divinity  ? 
Why  did  he  not  appear  to  say  farewell  ? 

Ellsworth  and  Barkley  betook  themselves  to  the 
gallery  after  breakfast,  and  paced  up  and  down, 
each  with  his  cigar.  "I  ordered  our  head  engineer, 
Grayson,  to  meet  us/7  said  Ellsworth,  "and  he  ought 
to  be  camped  not  far  away.  I  told  him  not  to  crowd 
the  location  so  that  those  Heart's  Desire  folks  would 
get  wind  of  our  plans.  For  that  matter,  we  don't 
want  to  take  those  men  for  granted,  either.  Some- 
how, Barkley,  I  believe  we've  got  trouble  ahead." 

" Nonsense !"  said  Barkley.  "The  whole  thing's  so 
easy  I'm  almost  ashamed  of  it." 

"That  last  isn't  usually  the  case  with  the  Hon. 
Porter  Barkley,"  Ellsworth  observed  grimly. 

Barkley  laughed  a  strong,  unctuous  laugh.  He  was 
a  sturdy,  thick-set  man,  florid,  confident,  masterful, 
with  projecting  eyebrows  and  a  chin  now  beginning 
its  first  threat  of  doubling.  Well  known  in  Eastern 
corporation  life  as  a  good  handler  of  difficult  situa- 
tions, Ellsworth  valued  his  aid;  nor  could  he  dis- 
abuse himself  of  the  belief  that  there  would  be  need 
of  it. 

"If  I  don't  put  it  through,  Ellsworth,"  reiterated 
Barkley,  biting  a  new  cigar,  "I'll  eat  the  whole  town 
without  sugar.  If  I  failed,  I'd  be  losing  more  than 
you  know  about."  He  turned  a  half  glance  in  Ells- 
worth's way,  to  see  whether  his  covert  thought  was 
caught  by  the  suspicion  of  the  other.    The  older  man 


172  HEART'S  DESIRE 

turned  upon  him  in  challenge,  and  Barkley  retreated 
from  this  tentative  position. 

"  Maybe  you  can  do  it,"  said  Ellsworth,  presently, 
"but  I  want  to  say,  if  I'm  any  judge,  you've  got  to 
be  mighty  careful.  Besides,  you've  never  been  out 
here  before.    We'll  have  to  go  slow." 

"Why'll  we  have  to?  I  tell  you,  we  can  go  in  and 
take  what  we  want  of  their  blasted  valley,  and  they 
can't  help  themselves  a  step  in  the  road." 

"I  don't  know,"  demurred  Ellsworth.  "They're 
there,  and  in  possession." 

"Nonsense!"  snorted  Barkley.  "How  much  title 
have  they  got?  You  say  yourself  they've  never 
filed  a  town-site  plat.  We  can  go  in  there  and  take 
the  town  away  from  under  their  feet,  and  they  can't 
help  themselves.  More  than  that,  I'll  bet  there's 
not  one  mining  claim  out  of  fifty  that  we  can't 
'  adverse '  in  the  courts  and  take  away  from  its  dinky 
locater.  These  fellows  don't  work  assessments. 
They  never  complete  legal  title  to  a  claim.  There 
never  was  a  mine  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  that  was 
located  and  proved  up  on  without  a  fight,  if  it  was 
worth  fighting  for.  Bah!  we  just  walk  in  and  see 
what  we  want,  and  take  it,  that's  all." 

"Well,"  said  Ellsworth,  "it's  the  best-looking  deal 
I've  seen  for  a  long  while,  that's  sure,  and  I  don't 
see  how  it's  been  covered  up  so  long.  And  yet  if 
you  come  to  talk  of  law-suits,  I've  noticed  it  a  dozen 
times  that  when  Eastern  men    have   gone   against 


HEART'S  DESIRE  173 

these  Western  propositions,  they've  got  the  worst 
of  it.  They're  a  funny  lot,  these  natives.  They'll 
live  in  a  shirt  and  overalls,  without  a  sou  marque 
to  bless  'emselves  with.  They'll  holler  for  Eastern 
Capital,  and  promise  Eastern  Capital  the  time  of 
its  life,  if  it'll  only  come;  and  when  Eastern  Capital 
does  come  —  why,  then  they  give  it  the  time  of  its 
fife!" 

"Nonsense,"  rejoined  Barkley,  walking  up  and 
down  with  his  hands  under  the  tails  of  his  coat. 
"We'll  eat  'em  up.  I'm  not  afraid  of  this  thing  for  a 
minute.  What  I  want  to  do  now  is  to  get  in  touch 
with  that  Grayson  fellow,  the  head  engineer." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  commented  Ells- 
worth, seating  himself  in  the  sun  at  the  edge  of  the 
gallery.  "If  you  want  to  see  the  real  head  engineer 
of  this  whole  Heart's  Desire  situation,  the  man  you 
want  isn't  Grayson,  but  a  young  fellow  by  the  name 
of  Anderson,  a  lawyer  up  there." 

"Lawyer?" 

"Yes,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  a  pretty 
goodish  one,  too.  Oh,  don't  think  these  people  are 
all  easy,  Barkley,  I  tell  you.  This  isn't  my  own 
first  trip  out  here." 

"What  about  this  lawyer  of  yours?" 

"Well,  he's  a  young  man  that  I  knew  something 
about  before  he  went  West.  He  knows  every  foot 
of  the  ground  up  there,  and  every  man  that  lives 
there,  and  I  want  to  tell  you,  he's  got  the  whole 


174  HEART'S  DESIRE 

situation  by  the  ear.  That  gang  will  do  pretty  near 
what  he  tells  them  to  do.  He's  got  nerve,  too. 
He's  the  most  influential  man  in  that  town." 

"Oh,  ho!  Well,  that's  different.  I'm  always 
right  after  the  man  who's  got  the  goods  in  his  pocket. 
We'll  trade  with  Mr.  Anderson  mighty  quick,  if  he 
can  deliver  the  goods.  What  does  he  hold  out  for? 
What  does  he  want  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  He  talked  to  me  rather 
stiff,  up  there,  and  we  didn't  hitch  very  well.  He 
sort  of  drifted  off,  and  I  didn't  see  him  at  all  the  day 
I  left,  when  I'd  laid  out  to  talk  to  him.  He's  the 
fellow  that  put  me  on  to  this  deal,  too.  It  was 
through  him  I  got  word  there  was  coal  in  that  valley." 

"How  would  it  do  to  charter  him  for  our  local 
counsel?    Is  he  strong  enough  man  for  that?" 

"Strong  enough !    I'm  only  afraid  he's  too  strong." 

"Well,  now,  let's  not  take  everything  for  granted, 
you  know.  Let's  go  at  this  thing  a  little  at  a  time. 
There's  got  to  be  a  system  of  courts  established  in 
here,  and  we've  got  to  know  our  judiciary,  as  a  matter 
of  course.  Then  we've  got  to  know  our  own  lawyers, 
as  another  matter  of  course.  Did  you  say  you  knew 
him  before,  that  is,  to  get  a  line  on  him,  before  he 
came  out  here?" 

Ellsworth  colored  just  a  trifle.  "Well,  yes,"  he 
admitted.  "He's  a  Princeton  man.  He  comes  of 
good  family  —  maybe  a  little  wild  and  headstrong  — 
wouldn't  settle  down,  you  know.    Why,  I  offered 


HEART'S  DESIRE  175 

him  a  place  in  my  office  once,  and  he  —  well,  he 
refused  it.  He  started  out  West  some  five  years  ago. 
Of  course  —  well,  you  know,  in  a  good  many  cases 
of  this  sort,  there's  a  girl  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Western  emigration." 

"What  girl?"  asked  Porter  Barkley,  sharply. 

"One  back  East  somewhere,"  said  Ellsworth, 
evasively. 

Porter  Barkley  came  and  seated  himself  beside  the 
older  man,  leaning  forward,  his  elbows  resting  on  his 
knees,  meditatively  crumbling  a  bit  of  bark  in  his 
hands. 

"I  was  just  going  to  say,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  said  he, 
"that  a  girl  in  a  case  like  this  —  always  provided 
that  this  man  is  as  influential  as  you  think  —  may 
be  a  mighty  useful  thing.  Maybe  you  couldn't 
buy  the  man  for  himself,  but  you  could  buy  him  for 
the  girl.    Do  you  see  ?  " 

Ellsworth  did  not  answer. 

"He  wants  to  make  good,  we'll  say,"  went  on 
Barkley.  "He  wants  to  go  back  East  with  a  little 
roll.  Now,  we  give  him  a  chance  to  make  good. 
We  give  him  more  money  than  he  ever  saw  before  in 
his  life,  and  set  him  up  as  leading  citizen,  all  that  son 
of  thing.  For  the  sake  of  going  back  and  making  a 
front  before  that  girl,  he'll  be  willing  to  do  a  heap  of 
things  for  us.  You've  seen  it  a  thousand  times 
yourself.  A  woman  can  do  more  than  cash,  in  a  real 
hard  bit  of  work.    Now,  Ellsworth,  you  furnish  the 


176  HEART'S  DESIRE 

girl,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me.  I'll  deliver  Heart's 
Desire  in  a  hand-bag  to  you,  if  the  man's  half  as  able 
as  you  seem  to  think  he  is." 

Porter  Barkley  never  quite  understood  why  Mr. 
Ellsworth  arose  suddenly  and  walked  to  the  far  end 
of  the  gallery,  leaving  him  alone,  crumbling  his  bits  of 
bark  in  the  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BUSINESS  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

This  Describing  Porter  Barkley's  Method  with  a  Man, 
and  Tom  Osby's  Way  with  a  Maid 

Dan  Anderson  sat  for  a  long  time  on  his  blanket 
roll,  looking  at  the  dribbling  smoke  from  the  ends 
of  the  charred  pifion  sticks.  So  deep  was  his  pre- 
occupation that  he  did  not  at  first  hear  the  shuffle 
of  feet  approaching  over  the  carpet  of  pine  needles; 
and  when  the  sound  came  to  his  consciousness,  he 
wondered  merely  how  Tom  Osby  had  gotten  around 
the  camp  and  come  in  on  that  side  of  the  mountain. 
Then  he  looked  up.  It  was  to  see  the  face  that 
had  dwelt  in  his  dreams  by  night,  his  reveries  by  day, 
the  face  that  he  had  seen  but  now  —  the  "  face  that 
was  the  fairest"!  He  sat  stupid,  staring,  conscious 
that  Fate  had  chided  him  once  more  for  his  unreadi- 
ness. Then  he  sprang  up  and  stared  the  harder  — 
stared  at  Constance  Ellsworth  coming  down  the  slope 
between  her  father  and  a  well-groomed  stranger. 

The  girl  looked  up,  their  eyes  met;  and  in  that 
moment  Porter  Barkley  discovered  that ,  Constance 
Ellsworth  could  gaze  with  brightening  eye  and  height- 
ened color  upon  another  man. 
n  177 


178  HEART'S  DESIRE 

When  Ellsworth  and  Barkley  had  started  from  the 
hotel  in  search  of  the  engineer's  camp,  Constance 
had  joined  them  ostensibly  for  the  sake  of  a  walk  in 
the  morning's  sun.  If  it  had  been  in  her  mind  to 
discover  the  mystery  of  this  man  from  Heart's  Desire, 
she  had  kept  it  to  herself.  But  now  as  they  ap- 
proached the  dying  fire,  she  gained  the  secret  of  this 
stranger  who  had  travelled  a  week  by  wagon  to 
listen  to  a  bedizened  diva  of  the  stage!  The  con- 
sciousness flashed  upon  her  sharply.  Despite  her 
traitorous  coloring,  she  greeted  him  but  coolly. 

Porter  Barkley,  noticing  some  things  and  suspect- 
ing others,  drew  a  breath  of  sudden  conviction.  With 
swift  jealousy  he  guessed  that  this  could  be  none 
other  than  the  man  to  whom  Ellsworth  had  referred, 
— Anderson,  the  lawyer  of  Heart's  Desire.  Why  had 
not  Ellsworth  told  him  that  Constance  also  knew 
him  ?  Porter  Barkley  ran  his  eye  over  the  tall  strong 
figure,  the  clean  brown  jaw,  the  level  eyes,  sizing  up 
his  man  with  professional  keenness.  He  instantly 
rated  him  as  an  enemy  dangerous  in  more  ways  than 
one. 

After  the  first  jumbled  speeches  of  surprise,  Ells- 
worth introduced  the  two.  Maugre  his  coatless 
costume,  Dan  Anderson  was  Princeton  man  upon  the 
moment,  and  Barkley  promptly  hated  him  for  it, 
feeling  that  in  the  nature  of  things  the  stranger  should 
have  been  awkward  and  constrained.  Yet  this 
man  must,  for  business  reasons,  be  handled  carefully. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  179 

He  must  be  the  business  friend,  if  the  personal  enemy, 
of  Hon.  Porter  Barkley,  general  counsel  for  the  A.  P. 
and  S.  E.  Railway. 

The  States  had  come  to  Sky  Top,  as  Tom  Osby 
had  said,  and  this  group,  gathered  around  a  moun- 
tain fireside,  became  suddenly  as  conventional  as 
though  they  had  met  in  a  drawing-room.  "Who 
could  have  suspected  that  you  were  here,  of  all  places, 
Mr.  Anderson?"  Constance  remarked  with  polite 
surprise. 

"Why,  now,  Dolly,"  blundered  Mr.  Ellsworth, 
"didn't  the  hotel  fellow  tell  you  that  some  one  had 
come  down  from  Heart's  Desire  to  hear  the  latest 
from  grand  opera  —  private  session  —  chartered  the 
hall,  eh?  You  might  have  guessed  it  would  be  Mr. 
Anderson,  for  I'll  warrant  he's  the  only  man  in 
Heart's  Desire  that  ever  heard  an  opera  singer  before, 
or  who  would  ride  a  hundred  miles  —  that  is  — 
anyhow,  Mr.  Anderson,  you  are  precisely  the  man 
we  want  to  see."  He  finished  his  sentence  lamely, 
for  he  understood  in  some  mysterious  fashion  that  he 
had  not  said  quite  the  right  thing. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  replied  Dan  Ander- 
son, gravely,  "I  was  just  sitting  here  waiting  for  you 
to  come  along." 

"Now,  Mr.  Anderson,"  resumed  Ellsworth,  "Mr. 
Barkley,  here,  is  our  general  counsel  for  the  railroad. 
He's  going  up  to  Heart's  Desire  with  us  in  a  day  or 
so  to  look  into  several  matters.    We  want  to  take 


180  HEART'S  DESIRE 

up  the  question  of  running  our  line  into  the  town, 
if  proper  arrangements  can  be  made." 

"Take  chairs,  gentlemen/'  said  Dan  Anderson, 
motioning  to  a  log  that  lay  near  by.  He  had  already 
seated  Constance  upon  the  corded  blanket  roll  from 
which  he  himself  had  arisen.  "I  will  get  you  some 
breakfast,"  he  added. 

"No,  no,"  Mr.  Ellsworth  declined  courteously. 
"We  just  came  from  breakfast.  We  were  moving 
around  trying  to  find  our  engineer's  camp;  Grayson, 
our  chief  of  location,  was  to  have  been  here  before 
this.  By  the  way,  how  did  you  happen  to  come 
down  here,  after  all,  Anderson?" 

Dan  Anderson  was  conscious  that  this  question 
drew  upon  him  the  gaze  of  a  pair  of  searching  eyes, 
yet  none  the  less  he  met  the  issue.  He  glanced  at 
the  battered  phonograph  which  leaned  dejectedly 
against  a  tree. 

"As  near  as  I  can  figure,"  said  he,  "I  made  this 
pilgrimage  to  hear  a  woman's  voice."  Saying  which 
he  leaned  over  and  deliberately  kicked  the  phono- 
graph down  the  side  of  the  hill. 

"I  hope  you  enjoyed  it,"  commented  Constance, 
viciously,  her  cheeks  reddening. 

"Very  much,"  replied  Dan  Anderson,  calmly,  and 
he  looked  squarely  at  her. 

Porter  Barkley,  quiet  and  alert,  once  more  saw  the 
glance  which  passed  between  these  two.  Into  his 
mind,  ever  bent  upon  the  business  phase  of  any 


HEART'S  DESIRE  181 

problem,  there  flashed  a  swift  conviction.  This 
was  the  girl!  Here,  miraculously  at  hand,  was  the 
girl  whom  Dan  Anderson  had  known  back  in  the  East, 
the  girl  who  had  sent  him  West,  perhaps  the 
same  girl  to  whom  her  father  had  referred!  If  so, 
there  was  certainly  a  solution  for  the  riddle  of  Heart's 
Desire.  Piqued  as  he  was,  his  heart  exulted.  For 
the  time  his  own  jealousy  must  be  suppressed.  His 
accounting  with  Dan  Anderson  on  this  phase  of  the 
matter  would  come  later;  meanwhile  he  must  handle 
the  situation  carefully  —  literally  for  what  it  is 
worth. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  continued  Dan  Anderson, 
"what's  a  breakfast  or  two  among  friends?" 

"If  it  is  among  friends,"  replied  Ellsworth,  "and 
if  you'll  remember  that,  we'll  eat  with  you." 

In  answer  Dan  Anderson  began  to  kick  together 
the  embers  of  the  fire  and  to  busy  himself  with  dishes. 
He  was  resolved  to  humiliate  himself  before  this 
girl,  to  show  her  how  absolutely  unfit  was  the  life 
of  this  land  for  such  as  herself. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  and  listened,  as  there  came 
to  his  ear  the  distant  thin  report  of  a  rifle.  Ellsworth 
looked  inquiringly  at  his  host. 

"That's  my  friend,  Tom  Osby,"  explained  Dan 
Anderson.  "He  went  out  after  a  deer.  Tom  and  I 
came  down  together  from  the  town." 

"I  presume  you  do  have  some  sort  of  friends  in 
here,"  began  Barkley,  patronizingly. 


182  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"I  have  never  found  any  in  the  world  worth  having 
except  here/'  replied  Dan  Anderson,  quietly. 

"Oh,  now,  don't  say  that.  Mr.  Ellsworth  tells 
me  that  he  has  known  you  for  a  long  time,  and  has 
the  greatest  admiration  for  you  as  a  lawyer." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ellsworth  is  very  fond  of  me.  He's 
one  of  the  most  passionate  admirers  I  ever  had  in 
my  life,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 

Barkley  looked  at  him  again  keenly,  realizing  that 
he  had  to  do  with  a  quantity  not  yet  wholly  known 
and  gauged. 

Socially  the  situation  was  strained,  and  he  sought 
to  ease  it  after  his  own  fashion.  "You  see,"  he 
resumed,  "Mr.  Ellsworth  seems  to  think  that  he  can 
put  you  in  a  way  of  doing  something  for  yourself  up 
at  Heart's  Desire." 

It  was  an  ugly  thing  for  him  to  do  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, but  if  he  had  intended  to  humiliate  the 
other,  he  met  his  just  rebuke. 

"I  don't  often  talk  business  at  breakfast  in  my 
own  house,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "Do  you  use 
tabasco  with  your  frijoles?" 

"  Oh,  we'll  get  together,  we'll  get  together,"  Barkley 
laughed,  with  an  assumed  cordiality  which  did  not 
quite  ring  true. 

"Thank  you,"  Dan  Anderson  remarked  curtly; 
"you  bring  me  joy  this  morning." 

He  did  not  relish  this  sort  of  talk  in  the  presence 
of  Constance  Ellsworth.    Disgusted  with  himself  and 


HEART'S  DESIRE  183 

with  all  things,  he  arose  and  made  a  pretence  of 
searching  in  the  wagon.  Rummaging  about,  his 
hand  struck  one  of  the  round,  gutta-percha  plates 
which  had  accompanied  the  phonograph.  With 
silent  vigor  he  cast  it  far  above  the  tree  tops  below 
him  on  the  mountain  side. 

"That/'  he  explained  to  Constance  as  he  turned, 
"is  the  'Annie  Laurie'  record  of  the  Heart's  Desire 
grand  opera.  The  season  is  now  over."  The  girl 
did  not  understand,  but  he  lost  the  hurt  look  in  her 
eyes.  Irritated,  he  did  not  hear  her  soul  call  out 
to  him. 

"It's  the  luckiest  thing  in  the  world  that  you 
happen  to  be  here."  Mr.  Ellsworth  took  up  again 
the  idea  that  was  foremost  in  his  mind.  "You  fit 
in  like  the  wheels  in  a  clock.  We're  going  to  run  our 
railroad  up  into  your  town  —  I  don't  mind  saying 
that  right  here  —  and  we're  going  to  give  you  plenty 
of  law  business,  Mr.  Anderson ;  that  is  to  say,  if 
you  want  it,  and  will  take  it." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  quietly.  But 
now  in  spite  of  himself  he  felt  his  heart  leap  sud- 
denly in  hope.  Suppose,  after  all,  there  should  be  for 
him,  stranded  in  this  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the 
world,  a  chance  for  some  sort  of  business  success? 
Suppose  that  there  should  be,  after  all,  some  work 
for  him  to  do?  Suppose  that,  after  all,  he  should 
succeed  —  that,  after  all,  life  might  yet  unfold  before 
him  as  he  had  dreamed  and  planned !    Unconsciously 


184  HEART'S  DESIRE 

he  stole  a  glance  at  the  gray-clad  figure  on  the  blanket 
roll. 

Constance  sat  cool,  sweet,  delicate  but  vital,  re- 
freshing to  look  upon,  her  gray  skirt  folded  across 
her  knees,  the  patent-leather  tips  of  her  little  shoes 
buried  in  the  carpet  spread  by  the  forest  conifers. 
He  could  just  catch  the  curve  of  her  cheek  and  chin, 
the  droop  of  the  long  lashes  which  he  knew  so  well. 
Ah,  if  he  could  only  go  to  her  and  tell  her  the  abso- 
lute truth  —  if  only  it  could  be  right  for  him,  all  his 
life,  to  tell  her  the  truth,  to  tell  her  of  his  reverence, 
his  loyalty,  his  love,  through  all  these  years!  If, 
indeed,  this  opportunity  should  come  to  him,  might 
not  all  of  this  one  day  be  possible  ?  He  set  his  mind 
to  his  work,  even  as  the  girl  held  her  heart  to  its 
waiting. 

There  came  the  sound  of  a  distant  whistle  approach- 
ing up  the  trail,  and  ere  long  Tom  Osby  appeared, 
stumbling  along  in  his  pigeon-toed  way,  his  rifle 
in  the  crook  of  his  arm.  Tom  saluted  the  strangers 
briefly,  and  leaned  his  rifle  against  the  wagon  wheel. 
Dan  Anderson  made  known  the  names  of  the  visitors, 
and  Tom  immediately  put  in  action  his  own  notions 
of  hospitality.  Stepping  to  the  wagon  side  he  fished 
out  a  kerosene  can,  stoppered  with  a  potato  stuck 
on  the  spout.  He  removed  the  potato,  picked  up 
a  tin  cup,  and  proceeded  calmly  to  pour  out  a  gener- 
ous portion. 

"I  always  carry  my  liquor  this  way,  gentlemen," 


HEART'S  DESIRE  185 

said  he,  "  because  it's  convenient  to  pour  in  the  dark, 
and  ain't  so  apt  to  get  spilled.  This  here  liquor  some- 
times makes  folks  forget  their  geogerphy.  'Missin' 
me  one  place,  search  another,'  as  Walt  Whitman 
says.  If  a  fellow  gets  a  drink  of  this,  he  may  take 
to  the  tall  trees,  or  he  may  run  straight  on  out  of 
the  country.    You  never  can  tell.     Drink  hearty." 

Ellsworth  and  Barkley,  for  the  sake  of  complacency, 
complied  with  such  show  of  pleasure  as  they  could 
muster. 

"Now,"  said  Tom,  "I'll  cook  you  a  real  breakfast. 
My  compadre,  here,  can't  drink  and  he  can't  cook." 

"Three  breakfasts  before  ten  o'clock?"  protested 
Constance. 

But  Tom  was  inexorable.  "Eat  when  you  get  a 
chanct,"  he  insisted.    "That's  a  good  rule." 

Barkley  drew  Ellsworth  to  one  side.  "I  can't 
figure  these  people  out,"  he  complained. 

Ellsworth  chuckled.  "I  told  you  you'd  need 
help,  Barkley,"  he  said.  "They've  got  ways  of  their 
own.  You  can't  come  in  here  and  take  that  whole 
town  without  reckoning  with  the  people  that  live 
there.  Now  suppose  we  get  Anderson  to  himself 
and  talk  things  over  with  him  a  little?  We  may 
not  have  another  chance  so  good." 

Ellsworth  beckoned  to  Dan  Anderson,  and  he 
readily  joined  them.  The  three  walked  a  little  way 
apart;  which  left  Constance  to  the  tender  mercy  of 
Tom  Osby. 


186  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"That's  all  right,  ma'am/'  said  he,  when  she 
objected  to  his  cleaning  the  knives  by  sticking  them 
into  the  sand.  "I  don't  reckon  you  do  that  way 
back  home,  but  it's  the  only  way  you  can  get  a 
knife  plumb  clean." 

"So  this  is  the  way  men  live  out  here?"  mused 
Constance,  half  to  herself. 

"Mostly.  You  ought  to  see  him"  —  he  nodded 
toward  Dan  Anderson  —  "  cook  flap-jacks.  The 
woman  who  marries  him  will  shore  have  a  happy 
home.  We're  goin'  to  send  him  to  Congress  some 
day,  maybe." 

Constance  missed  the  irrelevance  of  this.  "I 
wonder,"  said  she,  gently,  "how  he  happened  to 
come  out  here — how  any  one  happened  to  come  out 
here?" 

"In  his  case,"  replied  Tom,  "it  was  probably 
because  he  wanted  to  get  as  far  away  from  Washing- 
ton as  he  could  —  his  mileage  will  amount  to  more. 
This  is  one  of  the  best  places  in  America,  ma'am, 
for  a  man  to  go  to  Congress  from."  Constance 
smiled,  though  the  answer  did  not  satisfy  her. 

"There  are  folks,  ma'am,"  Tom  Osby  continued, 
"  that  says  that  every  feller  come  out  here  because  of 
a  girl  somewheres.  They  allow  that  a  woman  sent 
most  of  us  out  here.  For  me,  it  was  my  fifth  wife, 
or  my  fourth,  I  don't  remember  which.  She  never 
did  treat  me  right,  and  her  eyes  didn't  track.  Yes, 
I'll  bet,  ma'am,  without  knowing  anything  about  it, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  187 

there  was  a  girl  back  somewhere  in  Dan  Anderson's 
early  ree-cords,  though  whether  it  was  his  third  or 
fourth  wife,  I  don't  know.  We  don't  ask  no  ques- 
tions about  such  things  out  here." 

He  went  on  rubbing  sand  around  in  the  bottom  of 
the  frying-pan,  but  none  the  less  caught,  with  side- 
long glance,  the  flush  upon  the  brown  cheek  visible 
beneath  its  veil. 

"I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you  this  mornin',  ma'am," 
he  went  on ;  "I  am,  for  a  fact.  It  more'n  pays  me  — 
it  more'n  pays  him  —  "  and  he  nodded  again  toward 
Dan  Anderson,  "for  our  trip  down  here.  We  wasn't 
expectin'  to  meet  you." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  come?"  asked  Constance, 
feeling  as  she  did  so  that  she  was  guilty  of  treachery. 

Tom  Osby  again  looked  her  straight  in  the  face. 
"Just  because  we  was  naturally  so  blamed  lonesome," 
said  he.  "  That  is  to  say,  I  was.  I  allowed  I  wanted 
to  hear  a  woman  sing.  It  wasn't  him,  it  was  me. 
He  come  along  to  take  care  of  me,  like,  because  he's 
used  to  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I  ain't.  He's,  my 
chaperoon.  He  didn't  know,  you  know  —  didn't 
either  of  us  know  —  but  what  I  might  be  took  advan- 
tage of,  and  stole  by  some  gipsy  queen." 

"But  —  but  the  phonograph — " 

Tom  looked  around.     "Where  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"Mr.  Anderson  kicked  it  down  the  hill." 

"Did  he?  Good  for  him!  I  was  goin'  to  do  it 
my  own  self.     You  see,  ma'am,  I  come  down  here 


188  HEART'S  DESIRE 

to  hear  a  song  about  Annie  Laurie.  I  done  so. 
Ma'am,  I  heard  about  a  'face  that  was  the  fairest.' 
Him?  Was  he  surprised  to  see  you-all  this  morn- 
ing? Was,  eh?  Well,  he  didn't  seem  so  almighty 
surprised,  to  my  way  of  thinkin',  last  night  when  I 
told  him  you  was  comin'  up  here  from  El  Paso.  I 
don't  know  how  he  knowed  it,  and  I  ain't  sayin'  a 
word." 

A  strange  lightening  came  to  Constance  Ellsworth's 
heart.  The  droop  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
faded  away.  She  slid  down  off  the  blanket  roll  and 
edged  along  across  the  ground  until  she  sat  at  his 
side.    She  reached  out  her  hand  for  the  skillet. 

"That  spider  isn't  clean  in  the  least,"  said  she. 

"Oh,  weZZ,"  apologized  Tom  Osby,  leaning  back 
against  the  wagon  wheel  and  beginning  to  fill  a  pipe. 
"I  suppose  there  might  be  just  a  leetle  sand  left  in 
it,  but  that  don't  hurt.  Do  you  want  a  dish  towel? 
Here's  one  that  I've  used  for  two  years,  freightin' 
from  Vegas  to  Heart's  Desire.  Me  and  it's  old 
friends." 

"Let  your  dishes  dry  in  the  sun  if  you  can't  do 
better  than  that,"  reproved  Constance.  "Ah,  you 
men!" 

"You're  right  hard  to  get  along  with,  ma'am.  Us 
gettin'  you  two  breakfasts,  too!" 

They  looked  into  each  other's  faces  and  Constance 
laughed.  "The  air  is  delightful  —  isn't  it  a  beauti- 
ful world?"  she  exclaimed  joyously. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  189 

"It  shore  is,  ma'am/'  rejoined  Tom  Osby,  "if  you 
think  so.    It's  all  in  the  way  you  look  at  things." 

"I  came  out  here  for  my  health,  you  know,"  said 
she,  carefully  explanatory. 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  ain't  any  healthier  than  a 
three-year-old  deer  on  good  pasture.  Ma'am,  I'm 
sorry  for  you,  but  I  wouldn't  really  have  picked  you 
out  for  a  lunger.  You  know,  I  don't  believe  Dan 
Anderson's  health  is  very  good,  either.  He's  needin' 
a  little  Sky  Top  air,  too." 

She  froze  at  this.  "I  don't  care  to  intrude  into 
Mr.  Anderson's  affairs,"  she  replied,  "nor  to  have 
him  intrude  into  my  own." 

"Who  done  the  intrudin'?"  asked  Tom  Osby, 
calmly.  "Here's  me  and  him  have  flew  down  here 
as  a  bird  to  our  mountings.  We  was  wantin'  to 
hear  about  a '  face  that  was  the  fairest.'  Us  a-settin' 
here,  calm  and  peaceful,  eating  frijoles,  who  intruded  ? 
Was  it  us  ?  Or,  what  made  us  intrude  ?  "  He  looked 
at  her  keenly,  his  eyes  narrowed  in  the  sunlight. 

Constance  abandoned  the  skillet  and  returned  to 
the  blanket  roll. 

"Now,"  went  on  Tom  Osby,  "things  happens  fast 
out  here.  If  I  come  and  set  in  your  parlor  in  New 
York,  it  takes  me  eight  years  to  learn  the  name  of 
your  pet  dog.  Lady  comes  out  and  sets  in  my  par- 
lor for  eight  minutes,  and  I  ain't  such  a  fool  but  what 
I  can  learn  a  heap  of  things  in  that  time.  That 
don't  mean  necessary  that  I'm  goin'  to  tell  any 


190  HEART'S  DESIRE 

other  fellow  what  I  may  think.  It  does  mean  that 
I'm  goin'  to  see  fair  play." 

The  girl  could  make  no  protest  at  this  enigmatic 
speech,  and  the  even  voice  went  on. 

"How  I  know  things  is  easy/'  he  continued.  "If 
you  think  he" — once  more  nodding  his  head  toward 
the  group  beyond  —  "come  down  here  to  hear  a 
op'ry  singer  sing,  I  want  to  tell  you  he  didn't.  That 
was  me.  He  come  to  give  me  fair  play  in  regards 
to  a  'face  that  was  the  fairest.'  I'm  here  to  see 
that  he  gets  fair  play  in  them  same  circumstances  — " 

"I  just  came  down  with  my  father,"  Constance 
interrupted  hotly,  suddenly  thrown  upon  the  defen- 
sive, she  knew  not  why.  "He's  been  ill  a  great 
deal.  I've  been  alarmed  about  him.  I  always  go 
with  him." 

"Of  course.  I  noticed  that.  Your  dad's  goin'  to 
run  the  railroad  into  Heart's  Desire,  and  we'll  all 
live  happy  ever  after.  You  come  along  just  to  see 
that  your  dad  didn't  get  sun  stroke,  or  Saint  Vitus 
dance,  or  cerebrus  meningittus,  or  something  else. 
I  understood  all  that  perfectly,  ma'am.  And  I 
understand  too,  perfectly,  ma'am,"  he  continued, 
tapping  his  pipe  on  a  wagon  wheel,  "  that  back  yonder 
in  the  States,  somewhere,  Dan  Anderson  knowed  a 
'face  that  was  the  fairest';  I  reckon  he  allowed  it 
was  'the  fairest  that  e'er  the  sun  shone  on.'  Now, 
I'm  old  and  ugly,  and  I  don't  even  know  whether  I'm 
a  widower  any  or  not;  so  I  know,  ma'am,  you  won't 


HEART'S  DESIRE  191 

take  no  offence  if  I  tell  you  it's  a  straight  case  of 
reasoning  for  yore  own  face,  ma'am, — and  I  ain't 
sayin'  this  with  any  sort  of  disrespect  to  any  of  my 
wives,  —  is  about  the  fairest  that  Dan  Anderson  ever 
did  or  could  see  —  or  me  either.  I  don't  reckon, 
ma'am,  that  he's  lookin'  for  one  that's  any  fairer." 

Constance  Ellsworth  turned  squarely  and  gazed 
hard  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  before  her.  She  drew 
a  breath  in  sharply  between  her  lips,  but  it  was  a 
sigh  of  content.  She  felt  herself  safe  in  this  man's 
hands.  Again  she  broke  into  laughter  and  flung 
herself  upon  the  convenient  frying-pan,  which  she 
proceeded  to  scrub  with  sudden  vigor.  Tom  Osby's 
eyes  twinkled. 

"  Whenever  you  think  that  skillet's  clean  enough, 
us  two  will  set  up  and  cook  ourselves  some  break- 
fast right  comf'terble.  As  for  them  fellers  over 
there,  they  don't  deserve  none." 

So  presently  they  two  did  cook  and  eat  yet  again.  A 
strange  sense  of  peace  and  content  came  to  Constance, 
albeit  mingled  with  remorse.  She  had  suspected 
Dan  Anderson  of  worshipping  at  the  shrine  of  an 
operatic  star,  whereas  he  had  made  the  long  journey 
from  Heart's  Desire  to  see  herself !    She  knew  it  now. 

"I'm  goin'  to  take  you  up  to  the  hotel,  ma'am," 
said  Tom  Osby,  after  Constance  had  finished  her 
third  breakfast,  "and  then,  after  that,  I'm  goin'  to 
take  Dan  Anderson  back  home  to  Heart's  Desire. 
We'll  see  you  up  there  after  a  while. 


192  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"One  thing  I  want  to  tell  you,  ma'am,  is  this. 
We've  got  along  without  a  railroad,  all  right,  and  we 
ain't  tearin'  our  clothes  to  have  one  now.  If  that 
railroad  does  get  into  our  town,  it's  more'n  half 
likely  that  it'll  be  because  the  boys  has  took  a  notion 
to  you.  I  never  did  see  you  before  this  mornin' ;  but 
the  folks  has  told  me  about  you  —  Curly's  wife, 
you  know,  and  the  rest.  We'd  like  to  have  you  live 
there,  if  only  we  thought  the  town  was  good  enough 
for  you.    It's  been  mostly  for  men,  so  far." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  GROUND  FLOOR  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Proposing  Certain  Wonders  of  Modern  Progress,  as  wrought 
by  Eastern  Capital  and  Able  Corporation  Counsel 

Tom  Osby  and  Constance  walked  up  the  trail 
toward  the  hotel,  and  Dan  Anderson  from  a  distance 
saw  them  pass.  He  watched  the  gray  gown  move 
through  sun  and  shadow,  until  it  was  lost  beyond  the 
thickening  boles  of  mountain  pines.  She  turned 
once  and  looked  back,  but  he  dared  not  appropriate 
the  glance  to  himself,  although  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  must  rise  and  follow,  that  he  must  call  out  to  her. 
She  had  been  there,  close  to  him.  He  had  felt  the 
very  warmth  of  her  hand  near  to  his  own.  There 
flamed  up  in  his  soul  the  fierce  male  jealousy.  He 
turned  to  this  newcomer,  this  man  of  the  States, 
successful,  strong,  fortunate.  In  his  soul  was  ready 
the  ancient  challenge. 

But  —  the  earth  being  as  it  is  to-day,  a  compromise, 
and  love  being  dependent  upon  property,  and  chas- 
tity upon  chattels,  and  the  stars  of  the  Universe 
upon  farthing  dips  —  though  aching  to  rise  and  fol- 
low the  gray  gown,  to  snatch  its  wearer  afar  and 
away  into  a  sweet  wild  forest  all  their  own,  Dan 

o  193 


194  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Anderson  must  sit  silent,  and  plan  material  ways 
to  bring  the  gray  gown  back  again  to  his  eyes  accord- 
ing to  the  mandates  of  our  society.  Because  the 
gray  gown  was  made  in  the  States,  he  must  forget 
the  lesson  of  Curly  and  the  Littlest  Girl.  Because 
the  wearer  of  the  gown  lived  in  the  States,  he  must 
pull  down  in  ruins  the  temple  of  Heart's  Desire. 
Such  is  the  sweet  logic  of  these  days  of  modern 
progress,  that  independence,  friendship,  faith,  all 
must  yield  if  need  be;  even  though,  and  after  all, 
man  but  demands  that  himself  and  the  woman  whom 
he  has  sought  out  from  all  the  world  may  one  day  be 
savage  and  sweet,  ancient  and  primitive,  even  as  have 
been  all  others  who  have  loved  indeed,  in  city  or  in 
forest,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world. 

"As  Mr.  Ellsworth  has  told  me,"  went  on  Porter 
Barkley,  "you  are  an  able  man,  Mr.  Anderson,  —  far 
too  able  to  be  buried  down  here  in  a  mountain  mining 
town." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  sweetly;  "that's 
very  nice  of  you." 

"Now,  I  don't  know  what  induced  you  to  hide 
yourself  out  here  — "  went  on  Barkley,  affably. 

"No,"  replied  Dan  Anderson,  "you  don't.  As 
for  myself  personally,  it's  no  one's  damned  business. 
I  may  say  in  a  general  way,  however,  that  the  pre- 
vailing high  prices  of  sealskins  and  breakfast  food  in 
the  Eastern  States  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
our  Western  civilization.     The  edge  of  the  West  is 


HEART'S  DESIRE  195 

mostly  inhabited  by  fools  and  philosophers,  all 
mostly  broke." 

"I  think  I  follow  you,"  assented  Barkley;  "but 
I'd  rather  classify  you  as  a  philosopher." 

"Perhaps.  At  least  I  am  not  fool  enough  to  talk 
about  my  own  affairs.  You  say  you  are  here  to  talk 
business.  It  is  your  belief  that  I  understand  some 
of  the  chemical  constituents  of  the  population  of 
Heart's  Desire.  Now,  in  what  way  can  we  be  useful 
to  each  other?" 

Ellsworth  broke  in,  "It's  as  Barkley  says;  I've 
been  watching  you,  Mr.  Anderson,  and  I've  had  an 
interest  in  you  for  quite  a  while." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes,  I  have.  I  want  to  see  you  win  out.  Now, 
if  you  won't  go  to  the  mountain,  the  mountain  will 
have  to  come  to  you.  If  you  won't  go  back  and  live 
in  the  States,  we  will  have  to  bring  the  States  to  you ; 
and  they'll  follow  mighty  quick  when  the  railroad 
comes,  as  you  know  very  well." 

"My  friend  Tom  Osby  used  those  very  words  this 
morning,  when  he  heard  the  whistle  of  your  esteemed 
railroad  train." 

"Precisely,"  Ellsworth  went  on.  "We'll  give  you 
a  town  to  live  in.  We'll  give  you  professional  work 
to  do." 

"So  you'll  build  me  a  town,  in  order  to  get  me 
work?    That's  very  nice  of  you,  indeed." 

"Now,  there  you  go  with  your  infernal  priggish- 


196  HEART'S  DESIRE 

ness,"  protested  Ellsworth,  testily.  "Have  we  asked 
you  to  do  anything  but  straight  business?" 

"Exactly,"  said  Barkley. 

They  were  playing  now  with  Dan  Anderson's 
heartstrings,  but  his  face  did  not  show  it.  They 
were  putting  him  in  the  balance  against  Heart's 
Desire,  but  his  speech  offered  no  evidence  of  it. 
They  were  making  Constance  Ellsworth  the  price  of 
Heart's  Desire,  but  Dan  Anderson  did  not  divulge  it, 
as  he  sat  and  looked  at  them. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  at  length,  "I  am  a  lawyer, 
the  best  one  in  Heart's  Desire.  The  law  here  is  com- 
plex in  practice.  The  titles  are  very  much  involved. 
Between  Chitty  on  Pleading  and  the  land  grants  of 
the  Spanish  crown,  the  law  may  be  a  very  slow  and 
deliberate  matter  in  this  country.  Now,  I  understand 
the  practice.  I  speak  the  language  —  I  don't  need 
an  interpreter  —  so  that  I  am  probably  as  good  as 
any  lawyer  you  can  secure  at  this  time.  In  straight 
matters  of  business  I  am  open  for  employment." 

"Now  you  are  beginning  to  talk,"  said  Barkley. 
"And  just  to  get  right  down  to  business,  and  show 
you  we're  not  all  talk,  I  want  to  give  you  a  little 
retainer  fee.  I'm  sorry  it  isn't  larger,  but  it'll  grow, 
I  hope."  He  drew  a  goodly  wallet  from  his  breast 
pocket,  and  counted  out  ten  one-hundred-dollar 
bills,  which  he  threw  down  carelessly  on  the  pine 
needles  in  front  of  Dan  Anderson.  "Is  that  satis- 
factory?" he  asked 


HEART'S  DESIRE  197 

"Yes,"  said  the  latter;  but  he  did  not  take  up  the 
money. 

"Oh,  there'll  be  more,"  suggested  Mr.  Ellsworth. 
"  This  business  ought  to  net  you  between  five  and  ten 
thousand  dollars  this  year.  It  might  mean  more 
than  that  if  we  got  into  town  without  a  fight." 

"  That  would  be  about  the  only  way  you  would  get 
in  at  all,"  and  Dan  Anderson  smiled  incomprehen- 
sibly. 

"  Exactly !  And  now,  since  you  are  our  counsel  —  " 
Barkley  spoke  with  an  increased  firmness  —  "we 
want  to  know  your  idea  on  the  right-of-way  question. 
What's  the  nature  of  the  titles  in  that  town,  anyhow  ?" 

"As  near  as  I  can  tell,"  replied  Dan  Anderson, 
"since  you  retain  me  and  ask  my  legal  opinion,  the 
fundamental  title  to  the  valley  of  Heart's  Desire  lies 
in  the  ability  of  every  fellow  there  to  hit  a  tin  can  at 
forty  yards  with  a  six-shooter.  There's  hardly  a 
tin  can  in  the  street  that  you  could  cook  a  meal  in," 
he  added  plaintively. 

"I  see,"  said  Barkley,  his  laughter  a  little  forced. 
"But  now,  I  heard  there  never  was  a  town  site  filed 
on." 

"There  was  a  story,"  replied  Dan  Anderson,  ru- 
minatingly,  "  that  Jack  Wilson  laid  out  a  town  there 
soon  after  he  made  the  Homestake  strike.  He  had 
McDonald,  the  deputy  surveyor,  plat  it  out  on  a 
piece  of  brown  paper,  —  which  was  the  only  sort 
they  had,  —  and  Jack  started  over  with  the  plat  to 


198  HEART'S  DESIRE 

file  at  the  county  seat.  He  got  caught  in  a  rain  and 
used  the  paper  to  start  a  fire  with.  After  that  he 
forgot  about  it,  and  after  that  again,  he  died;  so 
there  never  was  any  town  site.  The  boys  just  built 
their  houses  where  they  felt  like  it;  and  since  then 
they  have  been  so  busy  about  other  things  —  cro- 
quet, music,  embroidery,  antelope  hunting,  and  the 
like  —  that  they  haven't  had  time  to  think  about 
town  lots  or  town  sites,  or  anything  of  that  sort." 

Barkley's  eyes  gleamed.  "That  will  simplify 
matters  very  much,"  said  he. 

"You  really  do  need  local  counsel,"  Dan  Anderson 
observed.  "On  the  contrary  of  that,  it  will  compli- 
cate matters  very  much." 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  that,"  rejoined  Barkley, 
grimly.  "We'll  see  if  a  little  mining  camp  can  hold 
up  a  railroad  corporation  the  size  of  this !  But  why 
don't  you  put  your  money  in  your  pocket?  It's 
yours,  man." 

Dan  Anderson  slowly  picked  up  the  bills,  folded 
them,  and  tucked  them  into  a  pocket.  "This,"  said 
he,  "is  a  great  deal  more  than  the  entire  circulating 
medium  of  Heart's  Desire.  I'm  likely  to  become  a 
disturbing  factor  up  there." 

"That's  what  we  want  you  to  become,"  said  Bark- 
ley.  "  We  know  there're  a  lot  of  good  mining  claims 
in  there,  especially  the  coal  lands  on  the  east  side  of 
the  valley.  It  isn't  the  freight  and  passenger  traffic 
that  we're  after  —  we  want  to  get  hold  of  those  mines. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  199 

Why,  the  inside  gang  of  the  Southern  Pacific  —  you'll 
keep  this  a  professional  secret,  of  course  —  has  told 
us  that  they'll  take  coal  from  us  for  their  whole  sys- 
tem west  of  Houston.  In  a  couple  of  years  there'll 
be  a  town  there  of  eight  or  ten  thousand  people. 
Why,  man,  it's  the  chance  of  your  life.  And  here's 
Mr.  Ellsworth  putting  you  in  on  the  ground  floor.'7 

Dan  Anderson  looked  at  him  queerly. 

"By  the  way,"  began  Ellsworth,  taking  from  his 
pocket  an  engineer's  blue-print  map,  "  one  of  the  first 
things  we  want  to  settle  is  the  question  of  our  depot 
site.  The  only  place  we  can  lay  out  our  side  tracks 
is  just  at  the  head  of  the  canon,  and  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  valley.  Do  you  know  anything  about  this 
house  here?  It's  the  first. one  as  you  go  into  town 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  valley." 

Dan  Anderson  bent  over  the  map.  "Yes,  I  know 
it  perfectly,"  said  he.  "That's  the  adobe  of  our 
friend  Tom  Osby  here,  the  man  who  came  down 
with  me  from  Heart's  Desire.  He  just  went  up  the 
trail  with  your  daughter,  sir." 

"The  yards'll  wipe  him  out,"  said  Barkley. 

"The  valley  is  so  narrow,"  went  on  Ellsworth, 
"according  to  what  our  engineers  say,  that  we've 
got  to  clean  out  the  whole  lower  part  of  the  town,  in 
order  to  lay  out  the  station  grounds." 

Dan  Anderson  started.  The  money  in  his  pocket 
suddenly  burned  him. 

"The   trouble  with   your  whole  gang,"   resumed 


200  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Barkley,  striking  a  match  on  a  log,  "has  been  that 
you've  been  trying  to  stop  the  world.  You  can't  do 
that." 

Dan  Anderson,  silent,  grim,  listened  to  what  he 
had  not  heard  for  many  months,  the  crack  of  the  whip 
of  modern  progress.  Yet,  before  his  eyes  he  still 
saw  passing  the  vision  of  a  tall,  round  figure,  sweet 
in  the  beauty  of  young  womanhood,  even  as  he  was 
strong  in  the  strength  of  his  young  manhood. 

"I'll  help  you  all  I  can  honorably,  gentlemen," 
said  he,  at  length,  rising;  "we'll  talk  it  over  up  at  the 
town  itself.  I  don't  know  just  what  we  can  do  in  the 
way  of  recognizing  existing  rights,  but  in  my  opinion 
force  isn't  the  way  to  go  about  it." 

"  Well,  we'll  use  force  if  need  be  ;  you  can  depend  on 
that ! "  said  Barkley,  harshly.  "  I've  got  to  get  back 
home  before  long,  and  it  will  be  up  to  you  after  that." 

He  and  Ellsworth  also  arose  and  brushed  from  their 
clothing  the  clinging  dust  and  pine  needles.  The 
three  turned  towards  the  trail  and  walked  slowly  up 
to  the  edge  of  the  open  space  in  which  stood  the 
Sky  Top  edifice. 

"Quite  a  house,  isn't  it?"  said  Ellsworth,  admir- 
ingly. 

Dan  Anderson  did  not  look  at  the  building.  Con- 
stance was  sitting  alone  at  the  edge  of  the  gallery. 
Wishing  nothing  so  much  in  the  world  as  to  go  for- 
ward, Dan  Anderson  turned  back  at  the  edge  of  the 
grounds. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  201 

Some  jangling  mountain  jays  flitted  from  tree  to 
tree  about  him.  They  seemed  to  call  out  to  him  to 
pause,  to  return.  The  whispering  of  the  pines  called 
over  and  over  to  him;  " Constance!  Constance !" 

Once  more  he  turned,  and  retraced  his  steps,  the 
trees  still  whispering.  At  the  edge  of  the  opening 
he  paused  unseen.  He  saw  the  girl,  with  one  hand 
each  on  the  arm  of  her  father  and  of  Barkley,  laughing 
gayly  and  walking  across  the  gallery.  Each  had 
offered  her  an  arm  to  assist  her  in  arising,  and  her 
act  was,  in  fact,  the  most  natural  one  in  the  world. 
Yet  to  Dan  Anderson,  remote,  morose,  solitary,  his 
soul  out  of  all  perspective,  this  sight  seemed  the  very 
end  of  all  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SCIENCE  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

This  being  the  Story  of  a  Cow  Puncher,  an  Osteopath,  and  a 
Gross-eyed  Horse 

"That  old  railroad'll  shore  bust  me  up  a  heap. if 
it  ever  does  git  in  here,"  remarked  Tom  Osby  one 
morning  in  the  forum  of  Whiteman's  corral,  where 
the  accustomed  group  was  sitting  in  the  sun,  waiting 
for  some  one  to  volunteer  as  Homer  for  the  day. 

There  was  little  to  do  but  listen  to  story  telling, 
for  Tom  Osby  dwelt  in  the  tents  of  Kedar,  delaying 
departure  on  his  accustomed  trip  to  Vegas. 

"A  feller  down  there  to  Sky  Top,"  he  went  on, 
arousing  only  the  most  indolent  interest,  "one  of 
them  spy-glass  ingineers  —  tenderfoot,  with  his  six- 
shooter  belt  buckled  so  tight  he  couldn't  get  his  feet 
to  the  ground  —  he  says  to  me  I  might  as  well  trade 
my  old  grays  for  a  nice  new  checkerboard,  or  a  deck 
of  author  cards,  for  I  won't  have  nothing  to  do  but 
just  amuse  myself  when  the  railroad  cars  gets  here." 

No  one  spoke.  All  present  were  trying  to  imagine 
how  Heart's  Desire  would  seem  with  a  railroad  train 
each  day. 

"Things'll  be  some  different  in  them  days,  mebbe 
202 


HEART'S  DESIRE  203 

so."  Tom  recrossed  his  legs  with  well-considered 
deliberation. 

"There's  a  heap  of  things  different  already  from 
what  they  used  to  be  when  I  first  hit  the  cow  range," 
said  Curly.  "The  whole  country's  changed,  and  it 
ain't  changed  for  the  better,  either.  Grass  is  longer, 
and  horns  is  shorter,  and  men  is  triflin'er.  Since  the 
Yankees  has  got  west  of  the  Missouri  River  a  ranch 
foreman  ain't  allowed  to  run  his  own  brandin'  iron 
any  more,  and  that  takes  more'n  half  the  poetry 
out  of  the  cow  business,  don't  it,  Mac?"  This  to 
McKinney,  who  was  nearly  asleep. 

"Everything  else  is  changin',  too,"  Curly  continued, 
gathering  fluency  as  memories  began  to  crowd  upon 
him.  "Look  at  the  lawyers  and  doctors  there  is  in 
the  Territory  now  —  and  this  country  used  to  be 
respectable.  Why,  when  I  first  come  here  there 
wasn't  a  doctor  within  a  thousand  miles,  and  no  need 
for  one.  If  one  of  the  boys  got  shot  up  much,  we 
always  found  some  way  to  laundry  him  and  sew  him 
together  again  without  no  need  of  a  diplomy.  No 
one  ever  got  sick ;  and,  of  course,  no  one  ever  did  die 
of  his  own  accord,  the  way  they  do  back  in  the  States." 

"What's  it  all  about,  Curly?"  drawled  Dan  An- 
derson. "You  can't  tell  a  story  worth  a  cent." 
Curly  paid  no  attention  to  him. 

"The  first  doctor  that  ever  come  out  here  for  to 
alleviate  us  fellers,"  he  went  on,  "why,  he  settled 
over  on  the  Sweetwater.    He  was  a  allopath  from 


204  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Bitter  Creek.  What  medicine  that  feller  did  give! 
He  gradual  drifted  into  the  vet'inary  line. 

"  Then  there  come  a  homeopath  —  that  was  after 
a  good  many  women  folks  had  settled  in  along  the 
railroad  over  west.  Still,  there  wasn't  much  sick- 
ness, and  I  don't  reckon  the  homeopath  ever  did 
winter  through.  I  was  livin'  with  the  Bar  T  outfit 
on  the  Oscura  range,  at  that  time. 

"Next  doctor  that  come  along  was  a  ostypath." 
Curly  took  a  chew  of  tobacco,  and  paused  a  moment 
reflectively. 

"I  said  the  first  feller  drifted  into  vet'inary  lines, 
didn't  I?"  he  resumed.  "Well,  the  ostypath  did, 
too.  Didn't  you  never  hear  about  that?  Why, 
he  ostypathed  a  horse ! " 

"Did  what?"  asked  Tom  Osby  sitting  up;  for 
hitherto  there  had  seemed  no  need  to  listen  atten- 
tively. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  went  on,  "he  ostypathed  a  horse  for 
us.  The  boys  they  gambled  about  two  thousand 
dollars  on  that  horse  over  at  Socorro.  It  was  a 
cross-eyed  horse,  too." 

"  What's  that  ? "  Doc  Tomlinson  objected.  "  There 
never  was  such  a  thing  as  a  cross-eyed  horse." 

"Oh,  there  wasn't,  wasn't  there?"  said  Curly. 
"  Well,  now,  my  friend,  when  you  talk  that-a-way,  you 
simply  show  me  how  much  you  don't  know  about 
horses.  This  here  Bar  T  horse  was  as  cross-eyed  as 
a  saw-horse,  until  we  got  him  ostypathed.      But, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  205 

of  course,  if  you  don't  believe  what  I  say,  there's  no 
use  tellin'  you  this  story  at  all." 

"Oh,  go  on,  go  on,"  McKinney  spoke  up,  "don't 
pay  no  attention  to  Doc." 

"Well,"  Curly  resumed,  "that  there  horse  was 
knowed  constant  on  this  range  for  over  three  years. 
He  was  a  outlaw,  with  cream  mane  and  tail,  and  a 
pinto  map  of  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa  wrote  all  over 
his  ribs.  Run?  Why,  that  horse  could  run  down 
a  coyote  as  a  moral  pastime.  We  used  him  to  catch 
jack  rabbits  with  between  meals.  It  wasn't  no 
trouble  for  him  to  run.  The  trouble  was  to  tell 
when  he  was  goin'  to  stop  runnin'.  Sometimes  it 
was  a  good  while  before  the  feller  ridin'  him  could 
get  him  around  to  where  he  begun  to  run.  He  run 
in  curves  natural,  and  he  handed  out  a  right  curve 
or  a  left  one,  just  as  he  happened  to  feel,  same  as  the 
feller  dealin'  faro,  and  just  as  easy. 

"Tom  Redmond,  on  the  Bar  T,  he  got  this  horse 
from  a  feller  by  the  name  of  Hasenberg,  that  brought 
in  a  bunch  of  has-beens  and  outlaws,  and  allowed 
to  distribute  'em  in  this  country.  Hasenberg  was  a 
foreign  gent  that  looked  a  good  deal  like  Whiteman, 
our  distinguished  feller-citizen  here.  He  was  cross- 
eyed hisself,  body  and  soul.  There  wasn't  a  straight 
thing  about  him.  We  allowed  that  maybe  this 
Pinto  caballo  got  cross-eyed  from  associatin'  with 
old  Hasenberg,  who  was  strictly  on  the  bias,  any 
way  you  figured." 


206  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"You  ain't  so  bad,  after  all,  Curly,"  said  Dan 
Anderson,  sitting  up.  "You're  beginning  now  to  hit 
the  human  interest  part.  You  ought  to  be  a  reg'lar 
contributor." 

"Shut  up!"  said  Curly.  "Now  Tom  Redmond, 
he  took  to  this  here  Pinto  horse  from  havin' 
seen  him  jump  the  corral  fence  several  times,  and 
start  floatin'  off  across  the  country  for  a  eight 
or  ten  mile  sasshay  without  no  special  encourage- 
ment. He  hired  three  Castilian  busters  to  operate 
on  Pinto,  and  he  got  so  he  could  be  rode  occasional, 
but  every  one  allowed  they  never  did  see  any  horse 
just  like  him.  He  was  the  most  aggravatinest  thing 
we  ever  did  have  on  this  range.  He  had  a  sort  of 
odd-lookin'  white  eye,  but  a  heap  of  them  pintos  has 
got  glass  eyes,  and  so  no  one  thought  to  examine  his 
lookers  very  close,  though  it  was  noticed  early  in 
the  game  that  Pinto  might  be  lookin'  one  way  and 
goin'  the  other,  at  the  same  time.  He'd  be  goin'  on 
a  keen  lope,  and  then  something  or  other  might  get 
on  his  mind,  and  he'd  stop  and  untangle  hisself  from 
all  kinds  of  ridin'.  Sometimes  he'd  jump  and  snort 
like  he  was  seein'  ghosts.  A  feller  on  that  horse 
could  have  roped  antelopes  as  easy  as  yearlin'  calves, 
if  he  could  just  have  told  which  way  Mr.  Pinto  was 
goin' ;  but  he  was  a  shore  hard  one  to  estermate. 

"At  last  Tom,  why,  he  suspected  somethin'  wasn't 
right  with  Pinto's  lamps.  If  you  stuck  out  a  bunch 
of  hay  at  him,  he  couldn't  bite  it  by  about  five  feet. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  207 

When  you  led  him  down  to  water,  you  had  to  go  side- 
ways; and  if  you  wanted  to  get  him  in  through  the 
corral  gate,  you  had  to  push  him  in  backward.  We 
discovered  right  soon  that  he  was  born  with  his 
parallax  or  something  out  of  gear.  His  graduated 
scale  of  seem'  things  was  different  from  our'n.  I 
don't  reckon  anybody  ever  will  know  what  all  Pinto 
saw  with  them  glass  lamps  of  his,  but  all  the  time 
we  knowed  that  if  we  could  ever  onct  get  his  lookin' 
outfit  tuned  up  proper,  we  had  the  whole  country 
skinned  in  a  horse  race;  for  he  could  shore  run 
copious. 

"That  was  why  he  had  the  whole  Bar  T  outfit 
guessin'  all  the  time.  We  all  wanted  to  bet  on  him, 
and  we  was  all  scared  to.  Sometimes  we'd  make  up 
a  purse  among  us,  and  we'd  go  over  to  some  social 
getherin'  or  other,  and  win  a  thousand  dollars.  Old 
Pinto  could  run  all  day ;  he  can  yet,  for  that  matter. 
Didn't  make  no  difference  to  him  how  often  we  raced 
him ;  and  natural,  after  we'd  won  one  hatful  of  money 
with  him,  we'd  want  to  win  another.  That  was 
where  our  judgment  was  weak. 

"You  never  could  tell  whether  Pinto  was  goin' 
to  finish  under  the  wire,  or  out  in  the  landscape. 
His  eyes  seemed  to  be  sort  of  moverble,  but  like 
enough  they'd  get  sot  when  he  went  to  runnin'. 
Then  he'd  run  whichever  way  he  was  lookin'  at  the 
time,  or  happened  to  think  he  was  lookin' ;  and 
dependin'  additional  on  what  he  thought  he  saw. 


208  HEART'S  DESIRE 

And  law !  A  whole  board  of  supervisors  and  school 
commissioners  couldn't  have  looked  that  horse  in 
the  face,  and  guessed  on  their  sacred  honor  whether 
he  was  goin'  to  jump  the  fence  to  the  left,  or  take  to 
the  high  sage  on  the  outside  of  the  track. 

"Onct  in  a  while  we'd  git  Pinto's  left  eye  set  at  a 
angle,  and  he'd  come  around  the  track  and  under 
the  wire  before  she  wobbled  out  of  place.  On  them 
occasions  we  made  money  a  heap  easier  than  I  ever 
did  a-gettin'  it  from  home.  But,  owin'  to  the  loose- 
ness of  them  eyes,  I  don't  reckon  there  never  was  no 
horse  racin'  as  uncertain  as  this  here ;  and  like  enough 
you  may  have  observed  it's  uncertain  enough  even 
when  things  is  fixed  in  the  most  comf'terble  way 
possible." 

A  deep  sigh  greeted  this,  which  showed  that 
Curly's  audience  was  in  full  sympathy. 

"You  always  felt  like  put  tin'  the  saddle  on  to 
Pinto  hind  end  to,  he  was  so  cross-eyed,"  he  resumed 
ruminatingly,  "but  still  you  couldn't  help  feelin' 
sorry  for  him,  neither.  Now,  he  had  a  right  pained 
and  grieved  look  in  his  face  all  the  time.  I  reckon 
he  thought  this  was  a  hard  sort  of  a  world  to  get 
along  in.  It  is.  A  cross-eyed  man  has  a  hard 
enough  time,  but  a  cross-eyed  horse  —  well,  you 
don't  know  how  much  trouble  he  can  be  for  hisself, 
and  every  one  else  around  him. 

"Now,  here  we  was,  fixed  up  like  I  told  you.  Mr. 
Allopath  is  over  on  Sweetwater  creek,  Mr.  Homeo- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  209 

path  is  maybe  in  the  last  stages  of  starvation.  Old 
Pinto  looks  plumb  hopeless,  and  all  us  fellers  is 
mostly  hopeless  too,  owin'  to  his  uncertain  habits 
in  a  horse  race,  yet  knowin'  that  it  ain't  perfessional 
for  us  not  to  back  a  Bar  T  horse  that  can  run  as  fast 
as  this  one  can. 

"About  then  along  comes  Mr.  Ostypath.  This 
was  just  about  thirty  days  before  the  county  fair  at 
Socorro,  and  there  was  money  hung  up  for  horse 
races  over  there  that  made  us  feel  sick  to  think  of. 
We  knew  we  could  go  out  of  the  cow-punchin'  business 
for  good  if  we  could  just  only  onct  get  Pinto  over 
there,  and  get  him  to  run  the  right  way  for  a  few 
brief  moments. 

"Was  he  game?  I  don't  know.  There  never 
was  no  horse  ever  got  clost  enough  to  him  in  a  horse 
race  to  tell  whether  he  was  game  or  not.  He  might 
not  get  back  home  in  time  for  supper,  but  he  would 
shore  run  industrious.  Say,  I  talked  in  a  telyphome 
onct.  The  book  hung  on  the  box  said  the  telyphome 
was  instantaneous.  It  ain't.  But  now  this  Pinto, 
he  was  a  heap  more  instantaneous  than  a  tely- 
phome. 

"  As  I  was  savin',  it  was  long  about  now  Mr.  Osty- 
path comes  in.  He  talks  with  the  boss  about  locatin' 
around  in  here.  Boss  studies  him  over  a  while,  and 
as  there  ain't  been  anybody  sick  for  over  ten  years 
he  tries  to  break  it  to  Mr.  Ostypath  gentle  that  the 
Bar  T  ain't  a  good  place  for  a  doctor.    They  have 


210  HEART'S  DESIRE 

some  conversation  along  in  there,  that-a-way,  and 
Mr.  Ostypath  before  long  gets  the  boss  interested 
deep  and  plenty.  He  says  there  ain't  no  such  a 
thing  as  gettin'  sick.  We  all  knew  that  before; 
but  he  certainly  floors  the  lot  when  he  allows  that 
the  reason  a  feller  don't  feel  good,  so  as  he  can  eat 
tenpenny  nails,  and  make  a  million  dollars  a  year, 
is  always  because  there  is  something  wrong  with  his 
osshus  structure. 

"He  says  the  only  thing  that  makes  a  feller  have 
rheumatism,  or  dyspepsia,  or  headache,  or  nosebleed, 
or  red  hair,  or  any  other  sickness,  is  that  something 
is  wrong  with  his  nervous  system.  Now,  it's  this-a- 
way.  He  allows  them  nerves  is  like  a  bunch  of  gar- 
den hose.  If  you  put  your  foot  on  the  hose,  the 
water  can't  run  right  free.  If  you  take  it  off,  every- 
thing's lovely.  'Now,'  says  Mr.  Ostypath,  'if,  owin' 
to  some  luxation,  some  leeshun,  some  temporary 
mechanical  disarrangement  of  your  osshus  structure, 
due  to  a  oversight  of  a  All-wise  Providence,  or  may- 
be a  fall  off'n  a  buckin'  horse,  one  of  them  bones  of 
yours  gets  to  pressin'  on  a  nerve,  why,  it  ain't  natural 
you  ought  to  feel  good.    Now,  is  it?'  says  he. 

"He  goes  on  and  shows  how  all  up  and  down  a 
feller's  backbone  there  is  plenty  of  soft  spots,  and  he 
shows  likewise  that  there  is  scattered  around  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  a  feller's  territory  something  like  two 
hundred  and  four  and  a  half  bones,  any  one  of  which 
is  likely  any  minute  to  jar  loose  and  go  to  pressin* 


HEART'S  DESIRE  211 

on  a  soft  spot;  'In  which  case/  says  he,  'there  is 
need  of  a  ostypath  immediate. ' 

"'For  instance/  he  says  to  me,  'I  could  make 
quite  a  man  out  of  you  in  a  couple  of  years  if  I  had 
the  chanct.'  I  ast  him  what  his  price  would  be  for 
that,  and  he  said  he  was  willin'  to  tackle  it  for  about 
fifty  dollars  a  month.  That  bein'  just  five  dollars 
a  month  more  than  the  boss  was  allowin'  me  at  the 
time,  and  me  seein'  I'd  have  to  go  about  two 
years  without  anything  to  wear  or  eat  —  let  alone 
anything  to  drink  —  I  had  to  let  this  chanct  go  by. 
I  been  strugglin'  along,  as  you  know,  ever  since, 
just  like  this,  some  shopworn,  but  so's  to  set  up. 
There  was  one  while,  I  admit,  when  the  Doc  made  me 
some  nervous,  when  I  thought  of  all  them  soft  spots 
in  my  spine,  and  all  them  bones  liable  to  get  loose  any 
minute  and  go  to  pressin'  on  them.  But  I  had  to 
take  my  chances,  like  any  other  cow  puncher  at  forty- 
five  a  month." 

"You  ought  to  raise  his  wages,  Mac,"  said  Doc 
Tomlinson  to  McKinney,  the  ranch  foreman,  but  the 
latter  only  grunted. 

"  Mr.  Ostypath,  he  stayed  around  the  Bar  T  quite 
a  while,"  began  Curly  again,  "and  we  got  to  talkin' 
to  him  a  heap  about  modern  science.  Says  he,  one 
evenin',  this-a-way  to  us  fellers,  says  he,  'Why,  a 
great  many  things  goes  wrong  because  the  nervous 
system  is  interfered  with,  along  of  your  osshus  struc- 
ture.   You  think  your  stomach  is  out  of  whack/  says 


212  HEART'S  DESIRE 

he.  'It  ain't.  All  it  needs  is  more  nerve  supply.  I 
git  that  by  loosenin'  up  the  bones  in  your  back.  Why, 
I've  cured  a  heap  of  rheumatism,  and  paralysis,  and 
cross  eyes,  and — ' 

"' What's  that?'  says  Tom  Redmond,  right  sud- 
den. 

"'You  heard  me,  sir/  says  the  Doc,  severe. 

"  Tom,  he  couldn't  hardly  wait,  he  was  so  bad  struck 
with  the  idea  he  had.  'Come  here,  Doc,'  says  he. 
And  then  him  and  Doc  walked  off  a  little  ways  and 
begun  to  talk.  When  they  come  up  toward  us  again, 
we  heard  the  Doc  sayin' :  '  Of  course  I  could  cure 
him.  Straybismus  is  dead  easy.  I  never  did  oper- 
ate on  no  horse,  but  I've  got  to  eat,  and  if  this  here 
is  the  only  patient  in  this  whole  blamed  country, 
why  I'll  have  to  go  you,  if  it's  only  for  the  sake  of 
science/  says  he.  Then  we  all  bunched  in  together 
and  drifted  off  toward  the  corral,  where  old  Pinto 
was  standin',  lookin'  hopeless  and  thoughtful.  'Is 
this  the  patient?'  says  the  Doc,  sort  of  sighin'. 

"'It  are,'  says  Tom  Redmond. 

"  Doc  he  walks  up  to  old  Pinto,  and  has  a  look  at 
him,  frontways,  sideways,  and  all  around.  Pinto 
raises  his  head  up,  snorts,  and  looks  Doc  full  in  the 
face;  leastwise,  if  he'd  'a'  been  any  other  horse,  he'd 
'a'  been  lookin'  him  full  in  the  face.  Doc  he  stands 
thoughtful  for  quite  a  while,  and  then  he  goes  and 
kind  of  runs  his  hand  up  and  down  along  Pinto's 
spine.    He  growed  plumb  enthusiastic  then.    'Beau- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  213 

tiful  subject/  says  he.  '  Be-yoo-tif ul  ostypathic  sub- 
ject! Whole  osshus  structure  exposed ! '  And  Pinto 
shore  was  a  dream  if  bones  was  needful  in  the  game." 

Curly  paused  for  another  chew  of  tobacco,  then 
went  on  again. 

"Well,  it's  like  this,  you  see;  the  backbone  of  a 
man  or  a  horse  is  full  of  little  humps  —  you  can  see 
that  easy  in  the  springtime.  Now  old  Pinto's  back, 
it  looked  like  a  topygraphical  survey  of  the  whole 
Rocky  Mountain  range. 

"  Doc  he  runs  his  hand  up  and  down  along  this  high 
divide,  and  says  he,  'Just  like  I  thought/  says  he. 
'The  patient  has  suffered  a  distinct  leeshun  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  his  vaseline  motor  centres.' " 

"  You  mean  the  vaso-motor  centres,"  suggested 
Dan  Anderson. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  said  Curly,  aggressively. 

"Now,  when  we  all  heard  Doc  say  them  words  we 
knowed  he  was  shore  scientific,  and  we  come  up  clost 
while  the  examination  was  progressin'. 

"'Most  extraordinary/  says  Doc,  feelin'  some  more. 
'  Now,  here  is  a  distant  luxation  in  the  lumber  regions. ' 
He  talked  like  Pinto  had  a  wooden  leg. 

" '  I  should  diagnose  great  cerebral  excitation,  along 
with  pernounced  ocular  hesitation/  says  Doc  at 
last. 

"'Now  look  here,  Doc/  says  Tom  Redmond  to 
him  then.  'You  go  careful.  We  all  know  there's 
something  strange  about  this  here  horse;  but  now, 


214  HEART'S  DESIRE 

if  he's  got  any  bone  pressin'  on  him  anywhere  that 
makes  him  run  the  way  he  does,  why,  you  be  blamed 
careful  not  to  monkey  with  that  there  particular 
bone.  Don't  you  touch  his  runnin1  bone,  because 
that's  all  right  the  way  it  is.' 

"' Don't  you  worry  any/  says  the  Doc.  'All  I 
should  do  would  only  be  to  increase  his  nerve  supply. 
In  time  I  could  remedy  his  ocular  defecks,  too,'  says 
he.  He  allows  that  if  we  will  give  him  time,  he  can 
make  Pinto's  eyes  straighten  out  so's  he'll  look  like 
a  new  rockin'  horse  Christmas  mornin'  at  a  church 
festerval.  Incidentally  he  suggests  that  we  get  a  tall 
leather  blinder  and  run  it  down  Pinto's  nose,  right 
between  his  eyes. 

"This  last  was  what  caught  us  most  of  all.  "This 
here  blinder  idea,'  says  Tom  Redmond,  'is  plumb 
scientific.  The  trouble  with  us  cow  punchers  is  we 
ain't  got  no  brains  —  or  we  wouldn't  be  cow  punch- 
ers! Now  look  here,  Pinto's  right  eye  looks  off  to 
the  left,  and  his  left  eye  looks  off  to  the  right.  Like 
enough  he  sees  all  sorts  of  things  on  both  sides  of 
him,  and  gets  'em  mixed.  Now,  you  put  this  here 
harness  leather  between  his  eyes,  and  his  right  eye 
looks  plumb  into  it  on  one  side,  and  his  left  eye  looks 
into  it  on  the  other.  Result  is,  he  can't  see  nothing 
at  all!  Now,  if  he'll  only  run  when  he's  blind,  why, 
we  can  skin  them  Socorro  people  till  it  seems  like  a 
shame.' 

"  Well,  right  then  we  all  felt  money  in  our  pockets. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  215 

We  seemed  most  too  good  to  be  out  ridin'  sign,  or 
pullin'  old  cows  out  of  mudholes.  'You  leave  all 
that  to  me/  says  Doc.  '  By  the  time  I've  worked  on 
this  patient's  nerve  centres  for  a  while,  I'll  make  a 
new  horse  out  of  him.  You  watch  me,'  says  he. 
That  made  us  all  feel  cheerful.  We  thought  this 
wasn't  such  a  bad  world,  after  all. 

"We  passed  the  hat  in  the  interest  of  modern  sci- 
ence, and  we  fenced  off  a  place  in  the  corral  and  set 
up  a  school  of  ostypathy  in  our  midst.  Doc,  he  done 
some  things  that  seemed  to  us  right  strange  at  first. 
He  gets  Pinto  up  in  one  corner  and  takes  him  by 
the  ear,  and  tries  to  break  his  neck,  with  his  foot  in 
the  middle  of  his  back.  Then  he  goes  around  on  the 
other  side  and  does  the  same  thing.  He  hammers 
him  up  one  side  and  down  the  other,  and  works  him 
and  wiggles  him  till  us  cow  punchers  thought  he  was 
goin'  to  scatter  him  around  worse  than  Cassybianca 
on  the  burnin'  deck  after  the  exploshun.  My  expe- 
rience, though,  is  that  it's  right  hard  to  shake  a  horse 
to  pieces.  Pinto,  he  stood  it  all  right.  And  say, 
he  got  so  gentle,  with  that  tall  blinder  between  his 
eyes,  that  he'd  V  followed  off  a  sheepherder. 

"All  this  time  we  was  throwin'  oats  a-plenty  into 
Pinto,  rubbin'  his  legs  down,  and  gettin'  him  used  to  a 
saddle  a  little  bit  lighter  than  a  regular  cow  saddle. 
Doc,  he  allows  he  can  see  his  eyes  straightenin'  out 
every  day.  'I  ought  to  have  a  year  on  this  job/  says 
he;  'but  these  here  is  urgent  times/ 


216  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"I  should  say  they  was  urgent.  The  time  for  the 
county  fair  at  Socorro  was  comin'  right  clost. 

"At  last  we  takes  the  old  Hasenberg  Pinto  over  to 
Socorro  to  the  fair,  and  there  we  enters  him  in  every- 
thing from  the  front  to  the  back  of  the  racin'  book. 
My  friends,  you  would  'a'  shed  tears  of  pity  to  see 
them  folks  fall  down  over  theirselves  tryin'  to  hand  us 
their  money  against  old  Pinto.  There  was  horses  there 
from  Montanny  to  Arizony,  all  kinds  of  fancy  riders, 
and  money  —  oh,  law !  Us  Bar  T  fellers,  we  took 
everything  offered  —  put  up  everything  we  had,  down 
to  our  spurs.  Then  we'd  go  off  by  ourselves  and  look 
at  each  other  solemn.  We  was  gettin'  rich  so  quick 
we  felt  almost  scared. 

"  There  come  nigh  to  bein'  a  little  shootin'  just 
before  the  horses  was  gettin'  ready  for  the  first  race, 
which  was  for  a  mile  and  a  half.  We  led  old  Pinto 
out,  and  some  feller  standin'  by,  he  says,  sarcastic 
like,  ' What's  that  I  see  comin';  a  snow-plough?' 
Him  alludin'  to  the  single  blinder  on  Pinto's  nose. 

"'I  reckon  you'll  think  it's  been  snowin'  when  we 
get  through,'  says  Tom  Redmond  to  him,  scornful. 
1  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  shut  up,  unless  you've 
got  a  little  money  you  want  to  contribute  to  the  Bar  T 
festerval.'  But  about  then  they  hollered  for  the  horses 
to  go  to  the  post,  and  there  wasn't  no  more  talk. 

"  Pinto  he  acted  meek  and  humble,  just  like  a  glass- 
eyed  angel,  and  the  starter  didn't  have  no  trouble 
with  him  at  all.    At  last  he  got  them  all  off,  so  clost 


HEART'S  DESIRE  217 

together  one  saddle  blanket  would  have  done  for  the 
whole  bunch.    Say,  man,  that  was  a  fine  start. 

"Along  with  oats  and  ostypathy,  old  Pinto  he'd 
come  out  on  the  track  that  day  just  standin'  on  the 
edges  of  his  feet,  he  was  feelin'  that  fine.  We  put 
Jose  Santa  Maria  Trujillo,  one  of  our  lightest  boys,  up 
on  Pinto  for  to  ride  him.  Now  a  Greaser  ain't  got 
no  sense.  It  was  that  fool  boy  Jose  that  busted  up 
modern  science  on  the  Bar  T. 

"I  was  tellin'  you  that  there  horse  was  ostypathed, 
so  to  speak,  plumb  to  a  razor  edge,  and  I  was  sayin' 
that  he  went  off  on  a  even  start.  Then  what  did  he 
do?  Run?  No,  he  didn't  run.  He  just  sort  of 
passed  away  from  the  place  where  he  started  at.  Our 
Greaser,  he  sees  the  race  is  all  over,  and  like  any  fool 
cow  puncher,  he  must  get  frisky.  Comin'  down  the 
homestretch,  only  needin'  about  one  more  jump  — 
for  it  ain't  above  a  quarter  of  a  mile  —  Jose,  he  stands 
up  in  his  stirrups  and  pulls  off  his  hat,  and  just  whangs 
old  Pinto  over  the  head  with  it,  friendly  like,  to  show 
him  there  ain't  no  coldness. 

"  We  never  did  rightly  know  what  happened  at  that 
time.  The  Greaser  admits  he  may  have  busted  off 
the  fastenin'  of  that  single  blinder  down  Pinto's 
nose.  Anyhow,  Pinto  runs  a  few  short  jumps,  and 
then  stops,  lookin'  troubled.  The  next  minute  he 
hides  his  face  on  the  Greaser  and  there  is  a  glimpse 
of  bright,  glad  sunlight  on  the  bottom  of  Jose's  moc- 
casins.   Next  minute  after  that  Pinto  is  up  in  the 


218  HEART'S  DESIRE 

grandstand  among  the  ladies,  and  there  he  sits  down 
in  the  lap  of  the  Governor's  wife,  which  was  among 
them  present. 

"  There  was  time,  even  then,  to  lead  him  down  and 
over  the  line,  but  before  we  could  think  of  that  he 
falls  to  buckin'  sincere  and  conscientious,  up  there 
among  the  benches,  and  if  he  didn't  jar  his  osshus 
structure  a  heap  then,  it  wasn't  no  fault  of  his'n.  We 
all  run  up  in  front  of  the  grandstand,  and  stood  lookin' 
up  at  Pinto,  and  him  the  maddest,  scaredest,  cross- 
eyedest  horse  I  ever  did  see  in  all  my  life.  His  single 
blinder  was  swingin'  loose  under  his  neck.  His  eyes 
was  right  mean  and  white,  and  the  Mexican  saints 
only  knows  which  way  he  was  a-lookin'. 

"So  there  we  was,"  went  on  Curly,  with  another 
sigh,  "all  Socorro  sayin'  bright  and  cheerful  things 
to  the  Bar  T,  and  us  plumb  broke,  and  far,  far  from 
home. 

"We  roped  Pinto,  and  led  him  home  behind  the 
wagon,  forty  miles  over  the  sand,  by  the  soft,  silver 
light  of  the  moon.  There  wasn't  a  horse  or  saddle 
left  in  our  rodeo,  and  we  had  to  ride  on  the  grub  wagon, 
which  you  know  is  a  disgrace  to  any  gentleman  that 
wears  spurs.  Pinto,  he  was  the  gayest  one  in  the  lot. 
I  reckon  he  allowed  he'd  been  Queen  of  the  May. 
Every  time  he  saw  a  jack  rabbit  or  a  bunch  of  sage 
brush,  he'd  snort  and  take  a  pasear  sideways  as  far 
as  the  rope  would  let  him  go. 

" '  The  patient  seems  to  be  still  laborin'  under  great 


And  just  whangs  old  Pinto  over  the  head  with  it 
show  him  there  ain't  no  coldness.'" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  219 

cerebral  excitation/  says  the  Doc,  which  was  like- 
wise on  the  wagon.  'I  ought  to  have  had  a  year  on 
him/  says  he,  despondent  like. 

"'Shut  up/  says  Tom  Redmond  to  the  Doc.  'I'd 
shoot  up  your  own  osshus  structure  plenty/  says  he, 
'if  I  hadn't  bet  my  gun  on  that  horse  race.' 

"Well,  we  got  home,  the  wagon-load  of  us,  in  the 
mornin'  sometime,  every  one  of  us  ashamed  to  look 
the  cook  in  the  face,  and  hopin'  the  boss  was  away 
from  home.  But  he  wasn't.  He  looks  at  us,  and 
says  he: — 

" '  Is  this  a  sheep  outfit  I  see  before  me,  or  is  it  the 
remnants  of  the  former  cow  camp  on  the  Bar  T?' 
He  was  right  sarcastic.  'Doc/  says  he,  'explain  this 
here  to  me.'  But  the  Doc,  he  couldn't.  Says  the 
boss  to  him  at  last, '  The  right  time  to  do  the  explainin' 
is  before  the  hoss  race  is  over,  and  not  after/  says  he. 
'That's  the  only  kind  of  science  that  goes  hereafter 
on  the  Bar  T/  says  he. 

"I  reckon  the  boss  was  feelin'  a  little  riled,  because 
he  had  two  hundred  on  Pinto  hisself.  A  cross-eyed 
horse  shore  can  make  a  sight  of  trouble,"  Curly  sighed 
in  conclusion;  "yet  I  bought  Pinto  for  four  dollars, 
and  —  sometimes,  anyway  —  he's  the  best  horse  in 
my  string  down  at  Carrizosy,  ain't  he,  Mac  ?" 

In  the  thoughtful  silence  following  this  tale,  Tom 
Osby  knocked  his  pipe  reflectively  against  a  cedar 
log.  "That's  the  way  with  the  railroad,"  he  said. 
"It'sgoin'  to  come  in  herewith  one  eye  on  the  gold- 


220  HEART'S  DESIRE 

mines  and  the  other  on  the  town  —  and  there  won't 
be  no  blind-bridle  up  in  front  of  old  Mr.  Ingine, 
neither.  If  we  got  as  much  sense  as  the  Bar  T  feller, 
we'll  do  our  explainin'  before,  and  not  after  the  hoss 
race  is  over.  Before  I  leave  for  Vegas,  I  want  to  see 
one  of  you  ostypothetic  lawyers  about  that  there 
railroad  outfit." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  PARTITION  OF  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Concerning  Real  Estate,  Love,  Friendship,  and  Other  Good 
and  Valuable  Considerations 

"You  see,  it's  just  this-a-way,"  began  Tom  Osby,  the 
morning  after  Curly's  osteopathic  horse  saga;  "I've 
got  to  go  on  up  to  Vegas  after  a  load  of  stuff,  and  I'll 
be  gone  a  couple  of  weeks.  Now,  you  know,  from 
what  we  heard  down  at  Sky  Top  about  this  railroad, 
a  heap  of  things  can  happen  in  two  weeks.  Them 
fellers  ain't  showin'  their  hands  any,  but  for  all  we 
know  their  ingineers  may  come  in  any  day,  and  start 
in  to  doin'  things." 

"They've  got  to  make  arrangements  first,"  replied 
Dan  Anderson. 

"That's  all  right ;  and  so  ought  we  to  make  arrange- 
ments. We  seen  this  place  first.  Now,  Dan — " 
and  he  extended  a  gnarled  and  hairy  hand  —  "you've 
always  done  like  you  said  you  would.  You  took  care 
of  me  down  there  to  Sky  Top.  I  want  you  to  keep  on 
a-takin'  care  of  me,  whether  I'm  here  or  not.  Now, 
there's  my  house  and  yard,  right  at  the  head  of  the 
canon,  where  they've  got  to  come  if  they  get  in.  That 
little  old  place,  and  my  little  old  team,  is  about  all  I've 

221 


222  HEART'S  DESIRE 

got  in  the  world.  If  old  Mr.  Railroad  comes  up  this 
arroyo,  what  happens  to  me?  You  tell  'em  to  go 
somewheres  else,  because  I  seen  this  place  first,  and 
I  like  it.  Ain't  that  the  law  in  this  country  ?  Ain't 
it  always  been  the  law  ?  " 

Dan  Anderson  nodded.  He  held  out  his  hand  to 
Tom  Osby  and  looked  him  straight  in  the  eye.  "I'll 
take  care  of  you,  Tom,"  he  promised. 

"Then  that'll  be  about  all,"  said  Tom;  "giddup, 
boys!" 

In  some  way  news  of  the  early  advent  of  the  rail- 
road had  gotten  about  in  Heart's  Desire,  and  Dan 
Anderson  found  talk  of  it  on  every  tongue,  talk  very 
similar  to  that  of  Tom  Osby.  Uncle  Jim  Brothers, 
owner  of  the  one-story  hotel  and  restaurant,  the 
father  and  the  feeder  of  all  Heart's  Desire  when  the 
latter  was  in  financial  stress,  was  the  next  to  come  to 
him;   and  Uncle  Jim  was  grave  of  face. 

"See  here,  man,"  said  he,  "how  about  this  here 
new  railroad?  Do  we  want  it,  or  do  we?  Seems  to 
me  like  we  always  got  along  here  pretty  well  the  way 
things  was." 

Dan  Anderson  nodded  again.  Uncle  Jim  shifted 
from  one  large  foot  to  the  other,  and  thrust  a  great 
hand  into  the  pocket  of  one  trouser  leg. 

"All  I  was  going  to  say  to  you,  Dan,"  he  went  on, 
"is,  if  it  comes  to  takin'  any  sides,  we  all  know  which 
side  you're  on.  You're  with  us.  Now,  there's  my 
place  down  there,  where  you've  et  many  a  time  with 


HEART'S  DESIRE  223 

the  rest  of  the  boys.  You've  helped  me  build  the 
tables  in  the  dining  room  —  done  a  lot  of  things 
which  makes  me  feel  obliged  to  you."  (Ah !  lovable 
liar,  Uncle  Jim,  who  could  feed  a  man  broke  and 
hungry,  and  still  let  him  feel  that  the  operation  was 
a  favor  to  the  feeder!)  "Now,  I  just  wanted  to 
say,  Dan,  I  was  sure,  in  case  any  railroad  ever  did 
come  cavortin'  around  here,  you'd  sort  of  look  after 
the  old  place.    Will  you  do  that?" 

"Of  course  he  will,"  broke  in  Doc  Tomlinson,  who 
had  strolled  down  the  street  and  overheard  the  con- 
versation. "Dan  Anderson,  he's  our  lawyer.  We've 
got  him  retained  permanent,  ain't  we,  Dan?  Now, 
there's  my  old  drug  store  —  ain't  much  in  it,  but  it's 
where  I  settled  when  I  first  driv  into  the  valley,  and 
I  like  the  place.  Ain't  no  railroad  going  to  boost 
me  out  without  a  scrap." 

Dan  Anderson  turned  away,  sick  at  heart.  For 
three  days  he  kept  to  his  cabin  on  the  far  side  of  the 
arroyo. 

But  if  hesitation  sat  on  the  soul  of  any  man  of  the 
community,  if  doubt  or  questionings  harassed  the 
minds  of  any,  there  was  no  uncertainty  on  the  parf 
of  the  management  of  the  railroad,  whose  coming 
was  causing  this  uneasiness.  One  day  Dan  Anderson 
was  startled  to  hear  a  knock  at  his  door,  and  to  see 
the  dusty  figure  of  Porter  Barkley,  general  counsel 
of  the  A.  P.  and  S.  E.,  just  from  a  long  buckboard 
ride  from  the  head  of  the  rails.    With  him  came 


224  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Grayson,  chief  engineer.     Dan  Anderson  invited  them 
in. 

"Well,  Mr.  Anderson/'  said  Barkley,  "here  we  are, 
close  after  you.  We're  following  up  the  right-of- 
way  matters  sharp  and  hard  now.  We  can't  hold 
back  our  graders,  and  before  the  line  gets  abreast  of 
this  canon,  we've  got  to  know  what  we  can  do  here. 
Now,  what  can  you  tell  us  by  this  time?" 

"I  can  tell  you,  as  I  said,  the  status  of  every  town 
lot  and  every  mining  claim  in  this  valley,"  replied 
Dan  Anderson.  "It's  all  simple  so  far  as  that  is 
concerned." 

"How  about  that  town  site?  Grayson,  here,  is 
ready  to  go  ahead  with  the  new  plat.  If  you  never 
had  any  town  site  filed,  how  were  real-estate  transfers 
made?" 

"There  never  were  any  transfers  made.  There  has 
not  been  a  town  lot  sold  in  ten  years." 

"Real  estate  just  a  little  dull?"  laughed  Barkley, 
sarcastically. 

"We  hadn't  noticed  it,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  simply. 

"But  how  about  your  courts?  Next  thing  you'll 
be  telling  me  there  wasn't  any  court." 

"There  never  was,  except  when  we  acquitted  a 
man  for  shooting  a  pig.  I  was  his  counsel,  by  the 
way." 

"Nor  any  town  election?" 

"Why  should  there  be?" 

"No  government  —  no  nothing,  for  five  years?" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  225 

"Over  twelve  years  altogether,  to  be  exact.  I'm 
rather  a  newcomer  myself." 

"No  organization  —  no  government — "  Barkley 
summed  it  up.  "Good  God!  what  kind  of  a  place 
is  this?" 

"It's  Heart's  Desire,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  No 
man  of  that  valley  was  ever  able  to  say  more,  or 
indeed  thought  it  needful  to  say  more. 

Porter  Barkley  gave  a  contemptuous  whistle,  as 
he  turned  on  his  heel,  hands  in  pockets,  his  bulky 
form  filling  the  doorway  as  he  looked  out.  "So  you 
were  a  lawyer  here,"  he  said.  "You  must  have  had 
rather  more  leisure  than  law  practice,  I  should  think." 

"It  left  me  all  the  more  time  for  my  reading," 
said  Dan  Anderson,  gravely.  "You've  no  idea  how 
much  a  law  practice  interferes  with  one's  legal  stud- 
ies." Barkley  looked  at  him,  but  could  discover  no 
sign  of  levity. 

"Well,  there  is  one  thing  mighty  sure,"  said  he, 
shutting  his  heavy  jaws  tight;  "this  valley  is,  or  was, 
open  to  settlement  under  the  United  States  land  laws." 

"Certainly,"  assented  Dan  Anderson.  "The  first 
men  in  here  were  mining  men  from  every  corner  of 
the  Rockies,  and  they  knew  their  business.  All  these 
mountains  were  platted,  and  '  adversed/  and  litigated. 
Then,  before  the  second  discoveries,  and  before  any 
coal  veins  were  located  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley, 
the  gold  veins  pinched  out.  Everybody  got  broke, 
and  nearly   everybody  got  up   and  walked  away. 


226  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Meantime,  the  courts  had  only  been  sitting  over  at 
Lincoln  once  in  a  while  —  when  Billy  the  Kid  allowed 
it.  I'll  have  to  admit  that  things  were  a  trifle  tangled 
as  to  title." 

"Well,  I  should  say  so!"  Barkley  was  irritable, 
Grayson,  the  engineer,  silent  and  smiling. 

"There  was  so  much  room  after  the  mining  boom 
broke,  that  nobody  cared  for  a  town  lot.  Every 
fellow  just  picked  out  the  place  he  liked,  built  where 
he  liked,  and  went  in  as  his  own  butler,  chamber- 
maid, and  cook. 

"You  are  seeing  this  country  now,  gentlemen,"  he 
went  on,  "pretty  much  as  God  made  it,  and  as  Coro- 
nado  saw  it  three  hundred  years  ago.  I  deprecate 
any  undue  haste  on  your  part.  We've  been  three 
hundred  years  in  getting  this  far  along.  We've  done 
very  well  without  either  a  town  site  or  a  city  council." 

Barkley  was  utterly  unable  to  comprehend  either 
Dan  Anderson  or  Heart's  Desire.  "This  is  the  abso- 
lute limit!"  he  rapped  out.  "At  least  we'll  end  this 
now.  Come  on,  Grayson,  we  three'll  go  out  and  have 
a  look  at  the  place,  and  see  what  is  the  best  way  to 
lay  out  the  streets.  I  suppose,  Anderson,  you  can 
tell  us  how  we  can  get  title  under  government  patent 
— mineral  lands — coal  lands — desert  lands — home- 
stead —  whatever  we  can  dig  out  the  quickest?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "but  don't  dig  too 
deep,  or  you  may  run  against  a  land  grant  from  Ferdi- 
nand  and   Isabella   to    some    well-beloved    hidalgo 


HEART'S  DESIRE  227 

whose  descendants  may  now  be  herding  sheep  on 
the  Pecos,  or  owning  the  earth  along  the  Rio  Grande. 
Cabeza  de  Vaca  may  own  this  valley,  for  all  I  know. 
Maybe  Coronado  owns  it.  Quien  sabef  We  only 
borrowed  the  place.  We  thought  that  probably 
Charles  IV,  or  Philip  II,  or  whoever  it  was,  wouldn't 
mind  very  much,  seeing  that  he's  dead  anyhow,  in 
case  we  returned  the  valley  in  good  condition,  rea- 
sonable wear  and  tear  excepted,  after  we  were  dead 
ourselves.  Of  course,  this  railroad  coming  in  com- 
plicates matters  a  good  deal.  Do  I  make  all  this 
clear  to  you,  gentlemen  ?  I  never  did  see  a  place  just 
like  this,  myself." 

"No?"  snapped  Barkley. 

"So  we  called  it  Heart's  Desire." 

"We'll  call  it  Coalville  now,"  retorted  Barkley. 

They  passed  out  into  the  bright  sunlit  street 
of  Heart's  Desire.  Stern-browed  Carrizo,  guardian 
through  centuries  of  calm  and  secrecy,  gazed  down 
on  them  unwinking.  Dan  Anderson  looked  up  at 
the  grim  sentinel  of  the  valley,  and  mockery  left  his 
speech.  He  looked  about  at  the  wide  and  vacant 
spaces  of  the  little  settlement,  lying  content,  secure, 
and  set  apart,  and  a  horror  came  upon  his  soul.  He 
was  about  to  be  a  traitor,  a  traitor  to  Heart's  Desire ! 
Law  —  title  —  security  —  what  more  of  these  could 
these  men  bring  to  Heart's  Desire  than  it  had  long 
had  already?  What  wrong  here  had  ever  been  left 
unrighted?    Truth,   and  justice,   and  fairness,   and 


228  HEART'S  DESIRE 

sincerity,  those  priceless  things  —  why,  he  had  known 
them  here  for  years.  Were  they  now  to  be  made 
more  obvious,  or  more  strong?  He  had  believed  his 
friends,  had  had  friends  to  believe ;  would  these  walk- 
ing at  his  side  be  better  friends?  These  men  of 
Heart's  Desire,  these  simple  children  who  had  left 
the  smother  of  civilization  to  seek  out  for  themselves 
a  place  of  strength  and  simplicity,  these  strong  and 
fearless  giants,  these  friends  of  his  —  had  he  not 
promised  them  that  they  would  be  safe  in  his  hands  ? 
Hitherto  there  had  never  been  a  traitor  among  all 
the  men  of  Heart's  Desire.  Was  he,  their  accepted 
friend,  to  be  the  first?  Dan  Anderson  passed  his 
hand  over  a  forehead  suddenly  grown  moist.  He 
dared  not  look  up  at  the  chiding  front  of  old  Carrizo. 

"I  was  saying,"  said  Porter  Barkley,  turning  from 
the  taciturn  engineer  as  they  walked  along  the  hill- 
side, "that  this  place  seems  to  have  been  laid  off 
with  a  circular  saw.  I  can't  see  any  idea  of  streets 
at  all." 

"There  is  a  sort  of  a  street  along  the  arroyo"  said 
Dan  Anderson,  dully.  "There  never  were  any  cross 
streets.    The  boys  just  built  where  they  felt  like  it." 

"And  great  builders  they  were!  I  didn't  know 
men  ever  lived  in  such  places.  What's  that  joint 
there?"  He  pointed  out  a  ruined  jacal  of  upright 
mud-chinked  logs,  now  leaning  slantwise  far  to  one 
side.  "Was  that  a  house,  too?  It  hasn't  even  a 
chimney." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  229 

"  That  was  the  residence  and  law  office  of  a  former 
supreme  judge  of  the  State  of  Kansas/'  replied  Dan 
Anderson.  "  He  didn't  need  any  chimney.  You've 
no  idea  how  useless  a  chimney  really  is.  He  never 
stopped  to  cut  any  wood,  but  just  fed  a  log  in  through 
the  front  door  into  the  fire,  and  let  the  smoke  go  out 
the  window.  He  had  a  pet  wildcat  that  shared  his 
legal  studies  —  oh,  I  admit  that  some  of  our  ways 
may  seem  strange  to  you,  just  fresh  from  New  York." 

"But  didn't  you  live  in  New  York  once  yourself?" 

"Yes,  once." 

"What  made  you  come  away?" 

"Objected  to,  as  irrelevant,  immaterial,  and  in- 
competent; and  objection  sustained,"  replied  Dan 
Anderson.  "  The  first  thing  I  learned  in  this  country 
was  not  to  inquire  about  any  man's  past.  That's  a 
useful  thing  for  you  to  learn,  too." 

Porter  Barkley,  accustomed  to  dominating  those 
around  him,  flushed  red,  but  managed  to  suppress  his 
rising  choler  for  the  time.  "  And  by  the  way,  what's 
that  old  shell  over  there,  across  the  ditch  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  regret  your  irreverence,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 
"  That's  the  New  Jersey  Gold  Mills.  Eighty  thousand 
of  Eastern  Capital  went  in  there  at  one  time.  They 
didn't  understand  the  ways  of  the  country." 

"  Humph !  Well,  it's  a  more  practical  layout  you've 
got  in  here  this  time.  You  can  gamble  that  Ells- 
worth and  our  gang  are  not  going  to  sink  their  roll 
here,  by  a  long  ways,  unless  they  get  something  for  it." 


230  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"  You'll  get  a  run  for  your  money,  in  all  likelihood," 
remarked  Dan  Anderson. 

"  As  I  said,  now,  Grayson,  don't  pay  any  attention 
to  this  gully  here,"  went  on  Barkley.  "We'll  fill 
this  ditch  and  put  in  drains  at  the  crossings,  and  run 
the  main  street  north  and  south.  We'll  take  the 
ramshorn  crooks  out  of  this  town  in  about  two  days, 
when  we  get  started." 

"I  see  no  reason  why  we  could  not  run  the  cross 
streets  at  right  angles,"  said  Grayson,  the  construc- 
tive. "Of  course,  we'll  catch  a  good  many  of  these 
buildings  — "  he  hesitated,  pointing  at  the  time  to 
Doc  Tomlinson's  drug  store. 

"The  corner  of  this  fence  would  be  inside  the  line 
of  the  main  street,"  he  went  on,  sighting  along  his 
lead  pencil  to  the  angle  of  Whiteman's  corral.  It 
was  the  very  spot  where  Dan  Anderson  had  sat  in 
council  with  his  cronies  many  a  time.  He  bit  his  lip 
now  as  he  followed  the  gaze  of  the  engineer. 

"How  about  the  stone  house  down  the  arroyo?" 
asked  he  of  Grayson.  This  was  Uncle  Jim  Brothers' s 
hotel,  sanctuary  for  the  homeless  of  Heart's  Desire, 
a  temple  of  refuge,  a  place  where  the  word  "Friend- 
ship," unspoken,  never  written,  was  known  and  under- 
stood among  men  gathered  from  all  corners  of  this 
unfriendly  world. 

"That  would  have  to  go,"  replied  Grayson. 

"  As  to  that  shanty  down  below,  at  the  head  of  the 
canon,"  growled  Barkley,  pointing  to  Tom  Osby's 


HEART'S  DESIRE  231 

adobe,  "  that's  going  to  be  the  first  thing  we'll  tear 
down,  street  or  no  street.  We  need  that  place  for 
our  depot  yard,  and  we're  going  to  take  it.  Besides, 
there  was  something  about  that  Osby  fellow  I  didn't 
like  when  we  met  him  over  at  Sky  Top.  He's  too 
damned  independent  to  suit  me." 

Dan  Anderson  straightened  up  as  though  smitten, 
his  face  a  dull  red.  The  dancing  heat  mist  blurred 
before  his  eyes.  He  said  nothing.  They  turned  pres- 
ently and  strolled  down  toward  the  foot  of  the  arroyo. 
Barkley  pushed  his  hat  back  on  his  furrowed  forehead. 

"  There  is  a  lot  in  this  thing  for  me,  Anderson," 
said  he,  "and  there'll  be  a  lot  in  it  for  you.  Have 
you  got  any  claims  of  your  own  in  here?  Mineral, 
I  mean?" 

"  Of  course,"  Dan  Anderson  replied.  "  We  all  have 
claims.  This  is  the  only  valley  in  the  West,  so  far 
as  I  know,  where  there  is  good  coal  on  one  side,  and 
paying  gold  quartz  on  the  other.  But  that's  the 
case  here.    We  haven't  overlooked  it." 

Barkley  whistled.  "I  wouldn't  ask  a  better  show 
than  you'll  have  here,"  said  he,  contemplatively. 
"The  only  wonder  to  me  is  that  some  one  hasn't 
broken  into  this  long  ago." 

"There  might  be  some  few  difficulties,"  suggested 
Dan  Anderson. 

"Difficulties!  What  do  you  care  about  that? 
We'll  wear  'em  out,  pound  'em  out,  break  'em  up,  I 
tell  you.    We're  the  first  ones  to  find  this  country  — " 


232  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Except  maybe  Coronado,  De  Vaca  and  Company." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"The  same  as  you  and  me/'  replied  Dan  Anderson, 
enigmatically.    "Ask  the  mountains." 

"Oh,  rot!"  said  Barkley.  "I'll  tell  you,  once  for 
all,  I'm  not  interested  in  dreams  or  foolishness.  Now, 
if  you  want  to  go  in  with  us,  that's  one  thing.  If 
you  don't,  we  want  to  find  it  out  mighty  quick." 

"You  might  do  worse,"  said  Dan  Anderson.  "The 
other  lawyer  is  worse  than  myself.  At  times  I  sus- 
pect him  of  being  lazy." 

"Well,  well,  let's  get  together,"  urged  Barkley,  im- 
patiently. "Now,  Grayson  thinks  it  will  take  about 
three  hundred  and  fifty  acres  for  the  first  plat,  with- 
out additions;  we'll  supersede  the  old  Jack  Wilson 
patent.  He's  dead,  you  say?  Never  left  a  will,  or 
any  heirs?  Never  did  get  his  town  site  platted  and 
filed  ?  Well,  he  never  will,  now.  You  go  with  Gray- 
son to-morrow  and  run  out  these  lines  quietly,  and 
help  him  get  an  idea  of  the  best  mining  claims  on 
both  sides  of  the  valley,  too.  There'll  be  plenty  for 
you  to  do." 

Dan  Anderson  nodded,  but  made  no  comment. 
Many  things  were  revolving  in  his  mind. 

"Meantime,"  concluded  Barkley,  "I've  got  to  get 
back  down  the  line  to  meet  Mr.  Ellsworth.  We'll 
come  up  again.  You  can  readily  see  that  we've  got 
to  have  a  town  meeting  before  very  long.  Get  things 
in  line  for  it.     Will  you  attend  to  this  ?" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  233 

"Yes,"  replied  Dan  Anderson,  slowly  and  musingly; 
"yes,  I'll  attend  to  it." 

Barkley  looked  once  more  upon  the  impassive  face 
of  his  local  counsel,  and  departed  more  than  ever 
puzzled  and  exasperated.  He  liked  Dan  Anderson 
as  little  as  he  understood  him.  "I'll  handle  him, 
though/'  he  muttered  to  himself.  "There's  a  way 
to  handle  every  man,  and  I  rather  think  that  this 
one'll  come  to  his  feed  before  we  get  done  with  him." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TREASON  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Showing  the  Dilemma  of  Dan  Anderson,  the  Doubt  of 
Leading  Citizens,  and  the  Artless  Performance  of  a 
Pastoral  Prevaricator 

"Learned  Counsel/'  said  Dan  Anderson  on  the 
morning  following  the  preliminary  survey  of  Heart's 
Desire,  "I  want  you  to  take  my  case." 

"What's  up?"  asked  Learned  Counsel.  Dan  An- 
derson pointed  down  the  street,  where  a  group  stood 
talking  among  themselves,  casting  occasional  side- 
long glances  in  his  direction.  "They're  milling  like 
a  bunch  of  scared  longhorns,"  he  said.  "Something's 
wrong,  and  I  know  it  mighty  well.  I  want  you  to 
take  my  case.    Come  along." 

Contrary  to  the  ancient  custom  of  the  forum  at 
Whiteman's  corral,  the  group  did  not  move  apart 
to  admit  them  to  the  circle.  "  The  gentleman  from 
Kansas  was  addressing  the  meeting,"  said  Dan 
Anderson.  Doc  Tomlinson  continued  speaking,  but 
still  the  circle  made  no  move. 

"Say  it !"  burst  out  Dan  Anderson.  "Tell  it  out ! 
What's  on  your  minds,  you  fellows?" 

"We  don't  like  to  believe  it,"  McKinney  began, 
facing  toward  him.     "We  hope  it  ain't  true." 

234 


HEART'S  DESIRE  235 

"What's  not  true?"  he  demanded,  looking  from 
one  averted  face  to  another.  At  length  Doc  Tom- 
linson  resumed  his  office  as  spokesman.  "They  say 
you've  sold  us  out.  They  say  you're  bought  by  the 
railroad  to  clean  us  out;  that  the  scheme  is  to  steal 
the  town,  and  you're  in  the  steal.    Is  that  so?" 

"Is  it  true?"  asked  McKinney. 

"We  want  to  know  if  it's  true,"  insisted  Doc  Tom- 
linson.  "You  was  all  over  town  with  them  fellers. 
Now  they've  let  it  out  they're  goin'  to  grab  the  town 
site  and  make  a  re-survey." 

"We  know  there  wasn't  ever  any  town  site  here," 
added  Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  "  but  what  need  was  there  ? 
Wasn't  there  plenty  of  room  for  everybody?" 

"You  can't  try  any  hurrah  game  on  us  fellers  here," 
said  McKinney,  facing  Dan  Anderson  squarely. 

"Nor  you  with  me,"  retorted  Dan  Anderson. 
"Don't  any  of  you  undertake  that." 

"Hold  on  there,"  called  Learned  Counsel,  lifting 
his  hand  for  attention.  "This  man  is  my  client! 
You're  not  hearing  both  sides." 

"  Tell  the  other  side,  Dan,"  said  Uncle  Jim  Brothers. 
Dan  Anderson  shook  his  head. 

"Why  can't  you?"  asked  Uncle  Jim. 

"I  can't!"  broke  from  Dan  Anderson's  dry  lips. 
"If  you  knew,  you  wouldn't  ask  me  to." 

"That's  no  argument,"  exclaimed  Doc  Tomlinson. 
"What  we  do  know  is  that  you  were  figurin'  to  run 
the  street  right  past  here,  maybe  through  my  store 


236  HEART'S  DESIRE 

and  Uncle  Jim's  place,  maybe  takin'  Tom's  place 
for  depot  yards.  That  outfit's  been  all  over  the  hills 
lookin'  for  claims  to  jump.  It's  a  case  of  gobble 
and  steal.  They  say  you're  hired  to  help  it  on,  and 
are  gettin'  a  share  of  the  steal.  Now,  if  that's  so, 
what  would  you  do  if  you  was  in  our  place?" 

"I'd  run  the  fellow  out  of  town,"  said  Dan  Ander- 
son. "If  there  was  that  sort  of  a  traitor  here,  by 
God!  I'd  kill  him." 

"We  never  did  have  no  man  go  back  on  us  here," 
Uncle  Jim  Brothers  remarked. 

"  Don't  say  that  to  me ! "  Dan  Anderson's  voice 
was  shaken.  "You've  fed  me,  Uncle  Jim.  Don't 
say  that  to  me." 

"Then  what  shall  we  say,  man?"  replied  Uncle 
Jim.  "We  want  to  be  fair  with  you.  But  let  me 
tell  you,  you  don't  own  this  valley.  We  own  it. 
There's  other  places  in  the  world  besides  the  States, 
and  don't  you  forget  that.  We  didn't  think  you'd 
ever  try  to  bring  States  ways  in  here." 

"To  hell  with  the  States !"  said  McKinney,  tersely. 

"And  States  ways  with  them!"  added  Doc  Tom- 
linson.  "I'd  like  to  see  any  railroad,  or  any  States, 
or  any  United  States  government,  try  to  run  this 
place."  Unconsciously  he  slapped  his  hand  upon 
the  worn  scabbard  at  his  hip,  and  without  thought 
others  in  the  group  eased  their  pistol  belts.  It  was 
the  Free  State  of  Heart's  Desire. 

"Well,  by  God !"  said  Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  snapping 


HEART'S  DESIRE  237 

and  throwing  away  the  pinon  twig  which  he  had  been 
fumbling,  "if  we  don't  want  no  railroad,  we  don't 
have  it,  and  that  goes!" 

"Of  course,"  broke  in  Learned  Counsel.  "We 
all  know  that.  That's  a  small  thing.  The  big 
question  is  whether  or  not  we've  been  fair  to  my 
client.  I've  not  had  time  yet  to  go  fully  into  his 
case.  We'll  have  to  continue  this  trial.  We've  got 
to  have  fair  play." 

"That's  right  enough,"  assented  McKinney,  and 
the  others  nodded. 

"Then  wait  a  while.  You  can't  settle  this  thing 
until  my  client  has  had  time  to  talk  with  me.  I'll 
find  out  what  he  ought  to  tell." 

"  All  right  for  that,  too,"  agreed  Uncle  Jim  Brothers. 
"  But  about  that  railroad,  we'll  hold  court  right  here. 
We'll  send  out  a  summons  to  them  folks,  and  have  a 
meetin'  here,  and  we'll  see  which  is  which  and  what 
is  what  in  this  town." 

"That's  fair  enough,"  assented  Learned  Counsel. 
"We'll  try  the  railroad,  and  we'll  try  my  client  at 
the  same  time." 

"Write  out  the  summons,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson 
"Send  word  down  to  them  railroad  folks  to  come  up 
here  and  be  tried.     It's  time  we  knew  who  was  boss, 
them  or  us.    Go  ahead,  you're  a  lawyer;  fix  it  up." 

They  ignored  Dan  Anderson,  their  long-time  leader 
in  all  matters  of  public  interest !  Eventually  it  was 
Doc  Tomlinson  himself  who  drafted  the  document, 


238  HEART'S  DESIRE 

one  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  Territorial  records 

—  a  summons  whereby  civilization  was  called  before 
the  bar  of  primitive  man.  These  presents  being 
signed  and  sealed,  a  messenger  was  sought  for  their 
delivery.  None  better  offered  than  a  half-witted 
sheepherder  commonly  known  as  Willie,  who  chanced 
to  be  in  town  by  buckboard  from  the  lower  country. 
This  much  accomplished,  the  meeting  at  Whiteman's 
corral  broke  up. 

Learned  Counsel  took  his  client  by  the  arm  and 
led  him  away.  "You  need  not  say  much  to  your 
lawyer,"  he  remarked;  "but  while  I  don't  ask  you 
to  incriminate  yourself  even  with  your  counsel,  I 
only  want  to  say  that  a  Girl  is,  in  a  great  many  deci- 
sions of  the  upper  courts,  held  to  be  an  extenuating 
circumstance."  He  watched  the  twitch  of  Dan 
Anderson's  face,  but  the  latter  would  not  speak. 

"I  don't  know  just  where  the  girl  exists  now  in 
this  case,"  went  on  Learned  Counsel,  "or  how;  but 
she's  somewhere.  It  is  not  wholly  necessary  that 
you  should  specify." 

"My  God!"  broke  out  Dan  Anderson.    "I  wanted 

—  I  hoped  so  much !  It  was  my  opportunity,  my 
first  —  " 

"That's  enough,"  said  Learned  Counsel.  "You 
needn't  say  any  more.  Every  fellow  has  something 
of  that  sort  in  his  life.  What  brought  McKinney 
here,  and  Doc  Tomlinson,  and  all  the  rest?" 

"Ribbons!"  said  Dan  Anderson.     "Tintypes!" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  239 

" Precisely.  And  who  shall  cast  the  first  stone? 
If  the  boys  knew  —  " 

"But  they  don't  know,  they  can't  know.  Do  you 
think  I'd  uncover  her  name,  even  among  my  friends 
—  make  her  affairs  public  ?    No." 

"Then  your  only  defence  cannot  be  brought  into 
court." 

"No.    So  what  do  you  advise?" 

"What  do  you  advise  your  counsel  to  advise  you?" 
asked  Learned  Counsel,  bitterly. 

"Nothing.     I'm  done  for,  either  way  it  goes." 

Dan  Anderson  turned  a  drawn  face.  "What  shall 
I  do?"  he  asked  at  length  again. 

For  once  Learned  Counsel  was  wise.  "In  this  sort 
of  crisis,"  said  he,  "one  does  not  consult  a  lawyer. 
He  decides  for  himself,  and  he  lives  or  dies,  succeeds 
or  fails,  wins  or  loses  forever,  for  himself  and  by  him- 
self, without  aid  of  counsel  or  benefit  of  clergy." 
He  stood  and  watched  the  iron  go  home  into  the  soul 
of  a  game  man.  Dan  Anderson  was  white,  but  his 
reply  came  sharp  and  stern. 

"You're  right!  Leave  me  alone.  I'll  take  the 
case  now  myself." 

They  shook  hands  and  separated,  not  to  meet 
again  for  days ;  for  Dan  Anderson  shut  himself  up 
in  his  cabin  and  denied  himself  to  all.  Gloom  and 
uncertainty  reigned  among  his  friends.  That  a 
crisis  of  some  sort  was  imminent  now  became  gener- 
ally understood.    At  length  the  crisis  came. 


240  HEART'S  DESIRE 

There  arrived  in  town,  obedient  to  the  summons 
of  Heart's  Desire,  the  dusty  buckboard  driven  by 
Willie  the  sheepherder.  Upon  the  front  seat  with 
him  was  Mr.  Ellsworth ;  on  the  back  seat  sat  Porter 
Barkley  and  Constance.  The  chief  actors  in  the 
impending  drama  were  now  upon  the  stage,  and 
all  Heart's  Desire  knew  that  action  of  some  sort  must 
presently  follow. 

With  due  decorum,  however,  all  Heart's  Desire 
stood  apart,  while  the  three  travellers,  dusty  and 
weary,  buried  themselves  in  the  privacy  of  Uncle 
Jim  Brothers's  best  spare  rooms.  Then  Heart's  Desire 
sought  out  Willie  the  sheepherder. 

"Now,  Willie,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson,  "look  here  — 
you  tell  us  the  truth  for  once.  There's  a  heap  of 
trouble  goin'  on  here,  and  we  want  to  get  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  Maybe  you  heard  something.  Now, 
say,  is  this  here  railroad  figurin'  on  comin'  in  here, 
or  not?" 

"Shore  it'll  come,"  said  Willie,  sagely.  "Them 
folks  has  got  money  to  do  just  what  they  want. 
Railroad'll  be  here  in  a  few  days  if  they  feel  like 
it." 

"Maybe  we  don't  feel  like  it,"  said  Doc  Tomlinson, 
grimly.     "We'll  see  about  that  to-night." 

"The  girl,  she's  the  one,"  said  Willie,  vaguely. 

"What's  that  you  mean?"  commanded  Doc 
Tomlinson. 

"The  funniest  thing,"  said  Willie,  "is  how  things 


HEART'S  DESIRE  241 

is  mixed.  Lord  John,  he  rides  on  the  front  seat ;  and 
Lord  Peter  Berkeley, — that's  the  lawyer  for  the 
railroad,  —  he  rides  on  the  back  seat  with  her,  and 
he  sues  for  her  hand,  he  does,  all  the  way  up  from 
the  Sacramentos.  Says  he  to  Lord  John,  says  he, 
'Gimme  the  hand  of  this  fair  daughter  of  thine, 
and  the  treasure  shall  be  yours/  says  he." 

"  Ah,  ha !"  said  Doc  Tomlinson.  "I  shore  thought 
that  girl  was  mixed  up  in  this  somehow.  But  I 
didn't  understand.  Wonder  if  Dan  Anderson  told 
us  everything  he  knew?" 

"They  set  on  the  back  seat,"  continued  Willie, 
glancing  importantly  at  the  listeners  to  his  romance, 
"a-lookin'  into  each  other's  eyes.  And  says  the 
bold  juke,  to  her,  says  he,  'Constance!'  like  that. 
'Constance,'  says  he,  'I've  loved  you  these  many 
years  agone.'" 

"  What  did  she  say  then  ?" 

"I  didn't  ketch  what  she  said.  But  by'm  by  the 
proud  earl  —  " 

"You  said  the  bold  juke." 

"It's  the  same  thing.  The  proud  earl  laughs, 
scornful  of  restraint,  like  earls  always  is,  and  says 
he  agin,  'Lord  John,  the  treasure  shall  be  thine,  but 
the  proudest  treasure  of  me  life  is  this  fair  daughter 
of  thine  that  sets  here  by  me  side,  Lord  John,'  says 
he.  From  that  I  thought  maybe  the  Lady  Con- 
stance had  said  something  I  didn't  ketch.  Of  course, 
I  was  busy  drivin'  the  coach." 


242  HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  men  of  Heart's  Desire  looked  from  one  to  the 
other.  "Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  said  Doc  Tomlin- 
son. 

Curly  chewed  tobacco  vigorously.  "To  me,"  he 
said,  "it  looks  like  Dan  was  throwed  down.  That 
girl  was  over  to  my  house,  too;  and  I  didn't  think 
that  of  her." 

"Throwed  down  hard,"  affirmed  Uncle  Jim 
Brothers ;  "  but  now,  hold  on  till  we  get  all  this 
straight.  Maybe  Dan  wouldn't  work  for  this  outfit 
if  he  knew  all  that's  goin'  on.  Seems  to  me  like, 
one  way  or  another,  the  girl's  kind  of  up  at  auction. 
If  she's  part  of  the  railroad's  comin'  into  Heart's 
Desire,  why,  then,  we  want  to  know  about  it.  I 
wish  't  Dan  Anderson  was  here." 

But  Dan  Anderson  was  not  there,  neither  was  he 
to  be  found  at  his  casita  across  the  arroyo.  As  fate 
would  have  it,  he  had  caught  Willie  in  his  wanderings 
and  had  done  some  questioning  on  his  own  account. 
Willie  escaped  alive,  and  presently  left  town.  Where- 
after Dan  Anderson,  half  dazed,  walked  out  into 
the  foot-hills,  seeking  the  court  of  old  Carrizo,  to  try 
there  his  own  case,  as  he  had  promised;  and  that  of 
the  woman  as  well. 

At  first  his  fairness,  his  fatal  fairness,  had  its  way 
with  him.  Resolutely  he  slurred  over  in  his  own 
mind  the  consequences  to  himself,  and  set  himself  to 
the  old,  old  task  of  renunciation.  Then,  in  his  loneli- 
ness and  bitterness,   there  came   to  him  thoughts 


HEART'S  DESIRE  243 

unworthy  of  him,  conclusions  unsupported  by  fair 
evidence. 

Far  up  on  the  flank  of  Carrizo  he  sat  and  looked 
down  upon  the  little  straggling  town  in  the  valley 
below.  These  hills,  he  thought,  with  all  their  treas- 
ures, were  to  be  sold  and  purchased  for  a  price,  for 
a  treasure  greater  than  all  their  worth,  —  the  hand 
of  the  woman  whom  he  loved.  She  had  consented 
to  the  bargain.  She  had  been  true  to  the  States, 
and  not  to  Heart's  Desire.  She  had  been  true  to 
her  class,  and  not  to  him,  who  had  left  her  class. 
She  had  been  true  to  her  sex,  and  not  to  him,  her 
unready  lover.  Ah,  he  had  not  deserved  her  remem- 
brance ;  but  still  she  ought  to  have  remembered  him ! 
He  had  not  been  worthy  of  her,  but  still  she  ought 
to  have  loved  him!  He  had  offered  her  nothing, 
he  had  evaded  her,  shunned  her,  slighted  her  —  but 
in  spite  of  that  she  ought  to  have  waited  for  him, 
and  to  have  loved  him  through  all,  and  believed  in 
him  in  spite  of  all ! 

He  sat,  befooled  and  befuddled,  arguing,  accusing, 
denying,  doubting,  until  he  knew  not  where  treachery 
began  or  faith  had  ended.  It  was  late  when  he  de- 
scended the  mountain  and  walked  dully  down  the 
street. 

All  this  time  Constance,  in  ignorance  of  everything 
except  the  absolute  truth,  sat  in  the  meagre  room  of 
the  little  stone  hotel.  She  wondered  if  there  would 
ever  be  any  change  in  her  manner  of  life,  if  there 


244  HEART'S  DESIRE 

would  ever  be  anything  but  this  continuous  following 
of  her  father  from  one  commercial  battle  into  another. 
She  wondered  why  Dan  Anderson  did  not  come. 
Surely  he  was  here.  Surely  his  business  was  with 
his  employers ;  and  more  surely  than  all,  and  in  spite 
of  all,  his  place  was  here  with  her ;  because  her  heart 
cried  out  for  him.  In  spite  of  all,  he  was  her  heart's 
desire.    Why  did  he  not  come  ? 

She  arose,  her  hands  clenched;   she  hated  him,  as 
much  as  she  had  longed  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  MEETING  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

How  Benevolent  Assimilation  was  checked  by  Unexpected 
Events 

There  are  two  problems  in  life,  and  only  two :  food 
and  love.  Civilization  offers  us  no  more,  nor  indeed 
does  barbarism;  for  civilization  and  barbarism  are 
not  far  apart.  The  great  metropolis  which  sent  its 
emissaries  out  to  the  little  mountain  hamlet  never 
held  within  its  teeming  confines  any  greater  or  graver 
questions  than  those  which  were  now  to  come  before 
the  town  meeting  of  Heart's  Desire. 

Down  at  the  stone  hotel  of  Uncle  Jim  Brothers 
the  tables  had  been  cleared  away  to  make  room  for 
this  event,  the  first  of  its  kind  ever  known  in  that 
valley.  Heretofore  there  had  been  no  covenant 
among  these  men,  no  law  save  that  which  lay  in  leather 
on  each  man's  thigh.  It  was  a  land  of  the  individual ; 
and  a  sweeter  land  than  that  for  a  man  was  never 
known  in  all  the  world.  Now  these  men  were  coming 
together  to  debate  what  we  call  a  great  question,  but 
what  is  really  a  small  question — that  of  an  organiza- 
tion under  the  laws  of  what  is  denominated  civiliza- 
tion ;  that  compact  which  the  world  devised  long  ago, 

246 


246  HEART'S  DESIRE 

when  first  man's  flocks  and  herds  became  of  value, 
and  against  which  the  world  has  since  then  rebelled, 
and  ever  will  rebel,  until  there  is  no  longer  any  world 
remaining,  nor  any  worth  the  name  of  man. 

The  long  room,  low  and  bare,  was  rilled  with  silent, 
bearded  men.  Two  or  three  smoky  little  lamps  but 
served  to  emphasize  the  gloom.  At  the  farther  end, 
on  chairs  raised  a  few  inches  above  the  level  of  the 
floor,  sat  John  Ellsworth  and  Porter  Barkley.  The 
latter  was  the  first  to  address  the  meeting,  and  he 
made  what  might  have  been  called  an  able  effort. 

Ignoring  the  fact  that  civilization  had  been  sum- 
moned to  the  bar  of  Heart's  Desire  for  trial,  and 
assuming  that  barbarism  was  put  upon  its  defensive, 
he  pointed  out  to  the  men  of  Heart's  Desire  that 
they  had  long  been  living  in  a  state  of  semi-savagery. 
To  be  sure,  they  had  not  yet  had  among  them  men 
of  executive  and  organizing  minds,  but  the  fulness  of 
years  had  now  brought  this  latter  privilege. 

He  paused,  waiting  a  space  for  applause,  but  no 
applause  came.  He  felt  upon  him  scores  of  straight- 
forward eyes,  unwavering,  steady. 

The  town,  in  its  new  shape,  he  hurried  on  to 
explain,  ought,  of  course,  to  wipe  out  and  forget 
its  past.  Even  the  name,  "  Heart's  Desire,"  was  an 
absurd  one,  awkward,  silly,  meaning  nothing.  They 
had  tremendous  coal-fields  directly  at  their  doors. 
He  suggested  the  name  of  Coalville  as  an  eminently 
practical  one  for  the  reconstructed  community.     His 


HEART'S  DESIRE  247 

suggestion  brought  out  a  stir,  a  shuffle,  a  sigh;  but 
no  more. 

Mr.  Barkley  declared  that  there  must  be  a  funda- 
mental revolution  as  to  the  old  ideas  of  Heart's 
Desire.  There  had  been  no  courts.  There  had  been 
no  government,  no  society.  It  was  time  that  the 
old  days  of  the  mining  camp  and  cow  town  were 
done,  time  that  miner's  law  and  no  law  at  all  should 
give  way  to  the  laws  of  the  Territory,  to  the  laws 
of  the  United  States  government,  and  to  the  greater 
law  of  industrial  progress. 

He  additionally,  and  with  a  hardening  of  his  voice, 
pointed  out  that,  under  the  provisions  of  the  laws 
of  society  and  civilization,  property  belonged  only 
to  the  man  who  held  the  legal  title  to  it.  The  gentle- 
men representing  this  new  railroad  were  the  first  to 
assume  legal  title  to  this  town  site;  they  had  taken 
all  necessary  steps,  and  intended  to  hold  this  town 
site  in  the  courts  as  their  own.  Their  expenses  would 
be  very  large,  and  they  proposed  to  be  repaid.  They 
felt  that  their  holdings  in  the  valley  would  warrant 
them  in  going  ahead  rapidly  with  their  plans  of  de- 
velopment. They  had  bought  some  few  claims  in 
the  coal-fields,  had  filed  on  others  for  themselves, 
and  had  taken  over  other  and  abandoned  claims 
on  both  sides  of  the  valley.  Their  disposition  was 
not  to  be  hostile.  They  hoped,  after  the  preliminary 
organization  of  the  town  government  should  have 
been  completed,  to  have  the  unanimous  ratification 


248  HEART'S  DESIRE 

of  all  their  actions.  They  felt  most  friendly,  most 
friendly  indeed,  toward  the  hardy  citizens  of  this 
remote  community.  They  proposed  to  help  them 
all  they  could.  He  felt  it  a  distinguished  privilege 
for  himself  to  be  the  man  to  take  the  first  steps  for 
the  organization  of  the  new  commercial  metropolis 
of  Coalville. 

But  it  was  distinctly  to  be  understood  by  all  that 
the  gentlemen  whom  he  represented  did  not  propose 
to  entertain,  and  would  not  tolerate,  any  interfer- 
ence with  their  plans.  He  begged,  in  conclusion, 
to  present  to  them,  with  the  request  for  a  respectful 
and  intelligent  hearing,  that  able,  that  distinguished, 
that  benevolent  gentleman,  well  known  in  financial 
circles  of  the  East,  Mr.  John  Ellsworth  of  New  York, 
who  would  now  address  them. 

Barkley  sat  down,  and,  with  customary  gesture  of 
the  orator,  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  brow. 
Then  he  gazed  up,  surprised.  The  applause  was  long 
in  coming.  He  straightened  in  his  chair.  The 
applause  did  not  come  at  all.  The  men  of  Heart's 
Desire  sat  hard  and  grim,  each  silent,  each  looking 
straight  ahead,  nor  asking  any  counsel. 

Ellsworth  felt  the  chill  which  lay  upon  the  audience, 
and  understood  its  meaning.  He  stood  before  them, 
a  rather  portly  figure,  clean,  ruddy,  well  clad,  fully 
self-possessed,  and  now,  by  intent,  conciliatory. 
With  hands  behind  his  back,  he  told  a  certain  funny 
little  story  with  which  he  had  been  wont  to  conquer, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  249 

at  least  in  social  gatherings.  No  ripple  came  in 
response.  The  eyes  of  the  men  of  Heart's  Desire 
looked  as  intolerably  keen  and  straight  at  him  as  they 
had  at  his  predecessor.  He  could  feel  them  plainly 
in  the  gloom  beyond. 

Unconsciously  on  the  defensive  now,  he  explained 
in  detail  the  undeniable  advantages  which  would 
accrue  to  Heart's  Desire  on  the  advent  of  this  rail- 
road and  the  carrying  out  of  the  plans  that  had  been 
outlined.  He  did  not  deny  that  he  considered  the 
opinion  of  his  counsel  valid;  that  the  valley  was 
in  effect  open  to  settlement;  that  they  had  taken 
steps  to  put  the  first  legal  possession  in  their  own 
names.  Yet,  he  stated,  although  they  had  taken 
over  a  number  of  claims  to  which  there  seemed  to 
be  no  legal  title,  they  did  not  propose  to  interfere, 
if  it  could  be  avoided,  with  the  holdings  of  any  man 
then  living  in  Heart's  Desire.  The  re-survey  of  the 
town  would  naturally  make  some  changes,  but  these 
should  sit  as  lightly  as  possible  upon  those  affected. 
Of  course,  the  railroad  company  could  condemn 
and  confiscate,  but  it  did  not  wish  to  confiscate.  It 
desired  to  take  the  attitude  of  justice  and  fairnesp. 
The  gentlemen  should  bear  in  mind  that  all  these 
improvements  ran  into  very  considerable  sums  of 
money.  A  hundred  miles  of  the  railroad  below 
them  must  pass  over  a  barren  plain,  a  cattle  country 
and  not  an  agricultural  region,  and  hence  offering 
relatively  small  support  to  a  railroad  enterprise.    As 


250  HEARTS  DESIRE 

yet,  artesian  water  was  unknown  in  that  country, 
and  might  remain  always  a  problem.  No  natural 
streams  crossed  that  great  dry  table  land  which 
lay  to  the  west,  or  the  similar  plateau  to  the  east. 
All  their  hopes  lay  in  this  one  valley  and  its  resources, 
and  while  without  doubt  those  resources  were  great, 
while  the  coal-fields  upon  the  one  side  of  the  valley 
and  the  gold  claims  upon  the  other  had  been  proved 
beyond  a  peradventure  to  be  of  value,  the  gentlemen 
should  nevertheless  remember  that  all  this  road 
building  and  mine  developing  cost  money,  a  great 
deal  of  money.  Of  course,  no  capital  could  be 
invested  except  under  the  protection  of  a  stable  and 
adequate  system  of  the  law. 

These  gentlemen  before  him,  Ellsworth  said  in 
conclusion,  had  chosen  for  their  habitation  one  of 
the  most  delightful  localities  he  had  ever  seen  in  all 
his  travels.  He  congratulated  them.  He  looked 
forward  to  seeing  a  prosperous  city  built  up  in  this 
happy  valley.  The  country  was  changing,  and  it 
must  change,  the  line  of  the  frontier  passing  steadily 
from  the  east  to  the  west  across  the  continent.  They 
could  not  forever  escape  civilization.  Indeed,  it 
had  now  come  to  them.  He  hoped  that  they  would 
receive  it,  and  that  they  would  receive  him  as  their 
friend. 

As  he  closed,  Ellsworth  found  himself  not  dictating, 
but  almost  pleading.  The  stern  gravity  of  his  audi- 
ence removed  the  edge  of  any  arrogance  he  might 


HEART'S  DESIRE  251 

have  felt.  He  sat  down  and  in  turn  passed  his  hand 
across  his  forehead,  as  perplexed  as  had  been  Bark- 
ley  before  him.  Both  grew  uneasy.  There  was  a 
shifting  in  the  seats  out  in  the  half-lighted  interior 
before  them,  but  there  came  no  sound  of  applause  or 
comment.  Ellsworth  leaned  over  and  whispered  to 
his  associate. 

"There's  something  up,"  said  he.  "We  haven't 
got  them  going.  What's  on  their  minds?  Where's 
Anderson  ?  He  ought  to  be  here.  Get  him,  and  let's 
nominate  him  for  mayor,  or  something.  This  thing's 
going  to  split!" 

"I'll  go  out  and  find  him,"  whispered  Barkley, 
and  so  slipped  out  of  the  room. 

He  did  find  him,  aloof,  alone,  pacing  slowly  up  and 
down  the  street,  the  one  man  needed  by  both  divergent 
interests,  and  the  one  man  absent.  "  Good  God ! 
Anderson,"  protested  Barkley.  "What  are  you  do- 
ing out  here  by  yourself?  We  need  you  in  there. 
They're  like  bumps  on  a  log.  We  can't  get  them 
started  at  all." 

"That's  funny,"  said  Dan  Anderson. 

"Funny!  I  don't  think  it's  very  funny.  You  ar^ 
the  one  supposed  to  understand  these  men,  and  we 
want  you  now  to  deliver  the  goods." 

"If  you  will  pardon  me,  sir,"  said  Dan  Anderson, 
facing  him  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  "I  don't 
exactly  like  that  expression." 

"Like  it  or  not,"  retorted  Barkley,  hotly.    "You 


252  HEART'S  DESIRE 

belong  in  there,  and  not  out  here  in  the  moonlight 
studying  over  your  maiden  speech.  What  are  you 
afraid  of?" 

"Of  nothing,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  simply.  "Or, 
of  nothing  but  myself." 

"  But  we  need  another  strong  talk  to  stir  them  up." 

"  Go  make  it,  then." 

"What's  that !"  cried  Barkley,  sharply;  "you'll  not 
come  in." 

"No,  I'm  done  with  it." 

"  Why,  damn  your  soul !  man,  you  don't  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you've  flunked  —  that  you've  gone  back 
onus?" 

Dan  Anderson  bit  his  lip,  but  continued  silent. 

"You've  taken  our  money!"  exclaimed  Barkley. 
"We've  hired  you,  bought  you!  We  won't  stand 
for  any  foolishness,  and  we  won't  put  up  with  any 
treachery,  I  want  you  to  understand  that.  Your 
place  is  in  there,  at  the  meeting  —  and  here  you  are 
standing  around  as  though  you  were  mooning  over 
some  girl." 

"I  hadn't  noticed  the  moonlight,"  said  Dan  Ander- 
son. "  As  to  the  rest  of  it,  the  street  of  this  town  has 
usually  been  free  for  a  man  to  think  as  he  pleased." 

"You're  a  traitor  and  a  squealer!"  cried  Barkley. 

"You're  a  damned  cad!"  retorted  Dan  Anderson, 
calmly.  He  stepped  close  to  the  other  now,  although 
his  hands  remained  in  his  pockets.  "I  dislike  to 
make  these  remarks  to  an  oiled  and  curled  Assyrian 


HEART'S  DESIRE  253 

ass,"  he  went  on,  smiling,  "but  under  the  circum- 
stances, I  do;   and  it  goes." 

Porter  Barkley,  dominant,  arrogant,  aggressive, 
for  years  accustomed  to  having  his  own  way  with 
men,  felt  a  queer  sensation  now  —  a  replica,  fourfold 
intensified,  of  that  he  had  experienced  before  the 
silent  audience  he  had  left  within.  He  was  afraid. 
Dan  Anderson  stepped  still  closer  to  him,  his  face 
lowered,  his  lips  smiling,  his  eyes  looking  straight  into 
his  own. 

"It's  just  what  I  said,"  began  Barkley,  desperately, 
"I  told  Constance  —  " 

The  wonder  was  that  Barkley  lived,  for  the  resort 
to  weapons  was  the  only  remedy  known  in  that  land, 
and  Dan  Anderson  knew  the  creed,  as  Barkley  should 
have  known  it.  His  weapon  leaped  out  in  his  hand 
as  he  drew  back,  his  lean  body  bent  in  the  curve  of 
the  fanged  rattler  about  to  strike.  He  did  strike, 
but  not  with  the  point  of  flame.  The  heavy  revolver 
came  to  a  level,  but  the  hooked  finger  did  not  press 
the  trigger.  Instead,  the  cylinder  smote  Porter 
Barkley  full  upon  the  temple,  and  he  fell  like  a  log. 
Dan  Anderson  checked  himself,  seeing  the  utter  un- 
consciousness of  the  fallen  man.  For  a  moment  he 
looked  down  upon  him,  then  walked  a  few  steps 
aside,  standing  as  does  the  wild  stag  by  its  prostrate 
rival.  The  fierce  heats  of  that  land,  still  primitive, 
now  flamed  in  his  soul,  gone  swiftly  and  utterly 
savage.    It  was  some  moments  before  he  thrust  the 


254  HEART'S  DESIRE 

heavy  weapon  back  into  its  scabbard,  and,  turning, 
strode  toward  the  door. 

As  he  entered  the  crowded  room  he  was  recognized, 
and  heard  his  name  called  again  and  again.  The 
audience  had  wakened,  was  alive !  Ellsworth,  sitting 
alone  and  anxious,  looked  up  hopefully  and  beckoned 
Dan  Anderson  to  his  side.  The  latter  seemed  scarce 
to  know  him,  as  he  walked  to  the  end  of  the  hall  and, 
without  preliminary,  began  to  speak. 

" Gentlemen,"  said  he, —  "boys  —  I  am  glad  to 
answer  you.  I  have  twice  been  invited  to  speak  at 
this  meeting.  Rather  I  should  say  that  I  am  now 
invited  by  you.  A  moment  ago  I  was  commanded, 
ordered  to  speak,  by  a  man  who  seemed  to  think  he 
was  my  owner. 

"  He  thought  himself  my  owner  by  reason  of  this !" 
He  drew  from  his  pocket  the  roll  of  bills  which  had 
been  untouched  since  he  had  received  them  at  Sky 
Top.  "Here's  my  first  fee  as  a  lawyer.  It's  a 
thousand  dollars.  I  wanted  the  money.  My  busi- 
ness is  that  of  the  law.  I  am  open  to  employment. 
You  ought  not  to  blame  me  —  you  shall  not  blame 
me."  He  held  the  money  in  his  hand  above  his 
head. 

The  silent  audience  looked  at  him  gravely,  with 
eyes  level  and  straight,  as  it  had  regarded  the  speakers 
preceding  him. 

"But  — "  and  here  he  stiffened — "I  did  not  know 
I  was  asked   to  help  steal   this  town,  to  help   rob 


HEART'S  DESIRE  255 

my  friends.  These  men  have  proposed  to  take  what 
was  not  theirs.  They  have  wanted  no  methods  but 
their  own.  They  have  not  asked,  but  ordered.  If 
this  is  their  way,  they'll  have  to  get  some  other 
man." 

The  men  of  Heart's  Desire  still  looked  at  him 
gravely,  silently. 

"Now,"  said  Dan  Anderson,  "I've  had  my  chance 
to  choose,  and  I've  chosen.  The  choice  has  cost  me 
much,  but  that  has  been  my  personal  cost,  with 
which  you  have  nothing  to  do.  I  am  throwing  away 
my  chance,  my  future,  but  I  do  throw  them  away!" 

As  he  spoke  he  flung  at  Mr.  Ellsworth's  feet  the 
roll  of  bills.  "Sir,"  said  he,  "it  is  the  sense  of  this 
meeting  that  the  railroad  shall  not  come  into  Heart's 
Desire.  Is  it  so?"  he  asked  of  the  eyes  and  the 
darkness;   and  a  deep  murmur  said  that  it  was  so. 

Dan  Anderson  stepped  down  from  the  little  plat- 
form out  into  the  room.  Hands  were  thrust  out  to 
him,  but  he  seemed  not  to  see  them.  He  pushed  on 
out,  haggard ;  and  presently  the  assemblage  followed, 
breaking  apart  awkwardly,  and  leaving  Ellsworth 
standing  alone  at  the  rear  of  the  room. 

Ellsworth  was  now  wondering  what  had  become 
of  Barkley,  and  in  his  discomfiture  was  turning  around 
in  search,  when  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  and 
passing  back  encountered  Barkley,  staggering  and 
bloody,  as  he  entered  through  a  side  door  of  the 
building. 


256  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Great  God!  man,  what's  the  matter?"  exclaimed 
Ellsworth.     "What's  happened  to  you?" 

"That  fellow  struck  me  with  a  gun.  Let  me  in! 
Let  me  get  fixed  for  him !    By  God !    I'll  kill  him." 

"Kill  whom?  Who  did  it?  Wait !  Wait,  now ! " 
expostulated  Ellsworth,  following  him  toward  his 
room;  but  Barkley  still  fumed  and  threatened. 
"That  fellow  Anderson  — "  Ellsworth  caught. 

The  sound  of  their  voices  reached  other  ears.  Con- 
stance came  running  from  her  own  room,  questioning. 

"Barkley's  been  hurt,"  explained  her  father, 
motioning  her  away.  "Some  mistake.  He  and 
Anderson  have  had  trouble  over  this  railroad  business, 
some  way." 

"  By  God !  I'll  kill  him ! "  shrieked  Barkley  again, 
in  spite  of  her  presence,  perhaps  because  of  it. 
"Where  can  I  get  a  gun?" 

"  You  forget  —  my  daughter  —  "  began  Ellsworth. 
But  Constance  avenged  the  discourtesy  for  herself. 

"Never  mind,  papa,"  she  said  coldly.  "Mr. 
Barkley,  you  look  ridiculous.  Go  wash  your  face; 
and  then,  if  you  want  a  gun,  go  get  one  in  the  front 
room.  The  wall's  full  of  them."  A  glint  of  scorn 
was  in  her  eyes,  which  carried  no  mercy  for  the 
vanquished,  nor  any  concern  for  the  victor.  She 
drew  her  father  with  her  into  her  own  room. 

"By  the  Lord!  girl,"  exclaimed  he,  "things  have 
come  out  different  from  what  we  expected.  I  never 
thought  —  " 


HEART'S  DESIRE  257 

"No,"  said  Constance,  "you  never  thought.  You 
didn't  know."    She  spoke  bitterly. 

Ellsworth  sank  down  in  a  chair,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  "Well,  we're  whipped,"  said  he.  "The 
game's  up.  That  fellow  Anderson  did  us  up,  after  all, 
—  and  look  here,  here's  the  money  he  threw  back, 
almost  in  my  face.  They  went  with  him  like  so 
many  lambs.  Confound  it  all,  I  don't  more'n  half 
believe  I  ever  understood  that  fellow." 

"No,  you  never  did,"  said  Constance,  slowly.  She 
was  sitting  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed,  gazing  at  her 
father  quietly.     "  And  so  he  threw  away  his  chance  ?" 

"Just  what  he  did.  Said  it  meant  a  lot  for  him 
to  throw  away  his  future,  but  he  was  going  to  do  it." 

"Did  he  say  that?"  asked  the  girl. 

"Sure  he  said  it!  There's  not  going  to  be  any 
railroad  at  Heart's  Desire;  and  incidentally  Mr. 
Daniel  Anderson  isn't  going  to  be  mayor,  or  division 
counsel  with  a  salary  of  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year. 
Oh,  well,  to-morrow  we'll  pull  out  of  here." 

Constance  was  deliberate  with  her  reply.  "One 
thing,  dad,  is  sure,"  said  she;  "when  we  go,  you 
and  I  go  together.  Let  Porter  Barkley  take  the 
stage  to-morrow  if  he  likes.  You  and  I'll  go  back 
by  way  of  Sky  Top;  and  we'll  go  alone." 

Ellsworth  pursed  his  lips  into  a  whistle,  many 
things  perplexing  him.  "He's  lucky  to  get  away 
at  all,"  he  remarked  at  length.  "From  what  he 
said,  it  looks  like  there'd  be  more  trouble." 


258  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Trouble!"  She  flung  out  her  hand  in  contempt. 
"  There'll  be  no  trouble  if  it  waits  for  him  to  make  it. 
If  I  know  Porter  Barkley,  he'll  know  enough  to  stay 
right  there  in  his  room.    If  he  does  not  —  " 

"By  Jinks !  Dolly,"  exclaimed  her  father,  "you  re- 
mind me  all  the  time  of  your  mother.  I  never  could 
fool  that  woman;  and  no  one  ever  could  scare  her !" 

She  looked  at  him  without  reply,  and  though  he 
stroked  her  hair  softly,  he  departed  in  discontent, 
his  own  head  bowed  in  reflection. 

Meanwhile,  out  in  the  long  street  of  Heart's  Desire, 
little  groups  of  men  gathered;  but  they  held  to  the 
sides  of  the  street,  within  the  shelter  of  angles  and 
doorways.  In  the  centre  of  the  street  there  paced 
slowly  up  and  down,  his  hands  behind  his  back  and 
not  fumbling  his  weapon,  a  tall  figure,  with  head 
bent  slightly  forward  as  in  thought,  although  with 
eyes  keenly  watching  the  door  of  the  hotel.  Uncle 
Jim  Brothers  himself  had  brought  out  word  of 
Barkley's  threatenings,  and  according  to  the  only 
known  creed  there  was  but  one  issue  possible.  That 
issue  was  now  awaited  decently  and  in  order.  The 
street  was  free  and  fair.  Let  those  concerned  settle 
it  for  themselves.  Incidentally,  Heart's  Desire  was 
willing  that  its  question  should  be  settled  at  the 
same   time.     Here  was  its   champion,   waiting. 

The  watchers  in  the  street  grew  restless,  but  noth- 
ing happened  to  interrupt  their  waiting.  Upon  the 
side  of  the  house  nearest  them,  lights  shone  from 


HEART'S  DESIRE  259 

three  windows.  Presently  one  of  these,  that  in  the 
room  of  Constance  Ellsworth,  was  extinguished. 
A  second  window  blackened;  Mr.  Ellsworth  had 
retired.  The  third  light  disappeared.  Porter  Bark- 
ley,  not  yet  exactly  of  the  proper  drunkenness  to 
find  courage  for  his  recently  declared  purpose,  had 
concluded  to  go  to  sleep  instead. 

In  the  street  Heart's  Desire  waited  patiently, 
gazing  at  the  darkened  house,  at  the  shaded  door. 
Half  an  hour  passed,  an  hour.  Dan  Anderson,  with- 
out speech  to  any  one,  walked  slowly  up  the  street 
and  across  the  arroyo.  The  light  in  his  own  casita 
flickered  briefly  and  then  vanished. 

"I  told  you  all  along  he  was  game!"  said  Curly, 
emerging  from  the  corner  of  Whiteman's  store  and 
offering  everybody  a  chew  from  his  plug  of  tobacco. 
"They  ain't  runnin'  him  any,  I  reckon.     Huh?" 

"Shucks!"  remarked  Uncle  Jim,  disgustedly. 
"  From  the  way  that  feller  Barkley  roared  around, 
I  shore  thought  he  was  a-goin'  to  tear  up  the  earth. 
He's  so  yellow  that  in  the  mornin'  I'm  goin'  to  tell 
him  to  move  on  out  of  town.  I've  always  kep'  a 
respectable  house  before  now,  and  I  never  did  harbor 
a  man  who  wouldn't  shoot  some ! " 

"In  the  mornin',"  added  Doc  Tomlinson,  as  the 
group  broke  up,  "I'm  goin'  to  take  Dan  Anderson 
that  saddle  of  mine  that's  layin'  around  in  my  store. 
Why,  what  does  a  man  want  of  a  saddle  in  a  drug 
store  ?    I  just  want  to  give  the  boy  something." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

COMMERCE   AT  HEART'S   DESIRE 

Showing    Wonders  of  the    Thirst  of  McGinnis,   and  the 
Faith  of  Whiteman  the  Jew 

There  was  a  barber  at  Heart's  Desire,  a  patient 
though  forgotten  man,  who  had  waited  some  years 
in  the  belief  that  eventually  a  patron  would  come 
into  his  shop  in  search  of  professional  services.  No 
one  did  come,  but  still  the  barber  hoped.  He  was  one 
of  those  who  had  clamored  most  loudly  for  Eastern 
Capital.  After  the  town  meeting  the  courage  of  the 
barber  failed  him.  He  declared  himself  as  at  length 
ready  to  abandon  his  faith  in  Heart's  Desire,  and  to 
depart  in  search  of  a  community  offering  conditions 
more  encouraging.  In  this  determination  he  was 
joined  by  Billy  Hudgens  of  the  Lone  Star,  a  man 
also  patient  through  long  years  of  adversity,  who  now 
admitted  that  he  might  be  obliged  to  close  up  and 
move  to  Arizona. 

The  news  of  these  impending  blows  fell  upon  a 
community  already  gloomy  and  despondent.  Some 
vague,  intangible  change  had  come  over  Heart's 
Desire.  The  illusion  of  the  past  was  destroyed. 
Men  rubbed  their  eyes,  realizing  that  they  had  been 

260 


HEART'S  DESIRE  261 

asleep,  that  they  had  been  dreaming.  There  dawned 
upon  them  the  conviction  that  perhaps,  after  all,  the 
old  scheme  of  life  had  not  been  sufficient.  The 
lotus  plant  was  robbed  of  its  potency. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  McGinnis  came  to  town. 
His  advent  was  the  most  fortunate  thing  that  could 
have  happened.  Certainly  it  was  hailed  with  joy 
and  accepted  as  an  omen;  for,  as  was  known  of  all 
men  over  a  thousand  miles  of  mining  country  in  the 
Rockies,  McGinnis  was  the  image  and  emblem  of 
good  luck. 

Not  that  this  meant  prosperity  for  McGinnis  him- 
self, for  that  gentleman  continued  in  a  very  even 
condition  as  to  wordly  goods,  being  steadily  and 
consistently  broke, — a  sad  state  of  affairs  for  one  who 
had  brought  so  much  happiness  to  others.  History 
proved  to  the  point  of  proverb  that  whenever  McGin- 
nis visited  a  camp, — and  he  had  followed  scores  of 
strikes  and  stampedes  in  all  the  corners  of  the  metal- 
liferous world, —  that  camp  was  destined  to  witness 
a  boom  at  no  distant  day. 

McGinnis  was  not  actually  a  newcomer  at  Heart's 
Desire,  but  upon  the  contrary  one  of  the  autoch- 
thones of  that  now  decadent  community.  He  was 
a  friend  and  former  bunk- mate  of  old  Jack  Wilson, 
discoverer  of  the  Homestake  mine.  Five  years  ago, 
however,  at  the  breaking  of  the  Heart's  Desire  boom, 
he  had  silently  stolen  away,  whether  for  Alaska  or  the 
Andes  no  one  knew  nor  asked.     Returning  now  as 


262  HEART'S  DESIRE 

though  from  temporary  absence,  he  punched  an 
ancient  and  subdued  burro  into  town,  and  unrolled 
his  blankets  behind  Whiteman's  corral,  treating  his 
return,  as  did  every  one  else,  entirely  as  a  matter 
of  course.  Seeing  these  things,  a  renewed  cheerful- 
ness came  to  the  lately  despondent.  Whiteman 
the  Jew,  ever  a  Greatheart,  openly  exulted,  and 
voiced  again  his  perennial  confession  of  commercial 
faith  in  Heart's  Desire. 

"Keep  your  eye  on  Viteman,"  said  he.  "Der 
railroat  may  go,  der  barber  may  go,  der  saloon 
may  go,  but  not  Viteman.  My  chudgment  is  like 
it  vas  eight  years  ago.  Dis  stock  of  goots  is  right 
vere  I  put  it.  If  no  one  don't  buy  it,  I  keeps  it.  I 
know  my  pizness.  Should  I  put  in  twenty  thousand 
dollars'  vort  of  goots,  and  make  a  mistake  of  der 
blace  vere  a  town  should  be?  I  guess  not!  Vite- 
man stays.  By  and  by  der  railroat  comes  to  Viteman. 
You  vatch.    Keep  your  eye  on  Viteman." 

He  stood  in  the  door  of  his  long  log  store  building, 
squat,  stocky,  bristling,  blue  shirted  like  the  rest, 
and  cast  his  eye  down  counters  and  shelves  piled 
with  clothing  and  hats,  boots  and  gloves,  pick-axes, 
long-handled  shovels,  saddles,  spurs,  wagon  bows, 
flour,  bacon,  and  all  manner  of  things  which  come 
in  tin  cans.  Dust  was  over  all;  but  above  the  dust 
was  expectancy  and  not  despair.  The  Goddess  of 
Progress  had  her  choicest  temple  in  the  frontier 
store. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  263 

"I  tolt  you  poys  years  ago,"  Whiteman  went  on, 
"  you  should  blat  der  town.  Ve  blat  it  oursellufs  now. 
Ve  don't  act  like  childrens  no  more.  Ve  meet  again. 
Ve  holt  a  election.  Ve  make  Viteman  gounty 
dreasurer.  Dan  Anderson  should  be  mayor,  and 
McGinney  glerk.  Ve  make  a  town  gouncil,  and  ve 
go  to  vork  like  ve  should  ought  to  did.  Ve  move 
Nogales  City  over  here  and  make  dis  der  gounty 
seat.  Ve  bedition  for  a  new  gounty  —  ve  don't 
vant  to  belong  to  dot  Becos  River  gow  outfit.  Ve 
make  a  town  for  oursellufs.  Viteman  didn't  put 
in  dis  stock  of  goots  for  noddings.  You  vatch 
Viteman." 

This  speech  turned  the  tide,  coming  as  it  did  with 
the  arrival  of  McGinnis.  Billy  Hudgens  decided  to 
wait  for  a  few  more  days,  although  for  the  time  he 
was  out  of  business  for  lack  of  liquids.  It  was  for- 
tunate that  McGinnis  did  not  know  this  latter  fact. 

The  capital  of  McGinnis,  aside  from  his  freckles 
and  his  thirst,  was  somewhat  limited.  His  blankets 
were  thin  and  ragged,  his  pistol  minus  the  most  im- 
portant portion  of  a  revolver  —  to  wit,  the  cylinder — 
and  withal  so  rusted  that  even  had  it  boasted  all  the 
component  parts  of  a  six-shooter,  it  could  not  have 
been  fired  by  any  human  agency.  He  had  a  shovel, 
a  skillet,  and  a  quart  tin  cup.  He  had  likewise  a 
steel-headed  and  long-handled  hammer,  in  good 
condition;  this  being,  indeed,  the  only  item  of  his 
outfit  which  seemed  normal  and  in  perfect  repair. 


264  HEART'S  DESIRE 

McGinnis  was  a  skilled  mechanic  and  a  millwright, 
and  could  use  a  hammer  as  could  but  few  other  men. 

On  the  morning  after  his  arrival  McGinnis  rolled 
early  out  of  his  blankets,  ate  his  breakfast  of  flap- 
jacks and  water,  and  put  his  hammer  in  his  hip  pocket, 
where  some  men  put  a  gun  who  do  not  know  how  to 
carry  a  gun.  McGinnis  spoke  to  no  one  in  particular, 
but  headed  up  into  the  mouth  of  the  curving  valley 
where  stood  the  silent  works  of  the  New  Jersey  Gold 
Mills  Company.  He  was  not  cast  down  because 
he  found  no  one  whom  he  could  ask  for  work.  He 
whistled  as  he  walked  through  the  open  and  barn- 
like building,  looking  about  him  with  the  eye  of  a 
man  who  had  seen  gold  mills  before  that  time. 

"They've  got  their  plates  fixed  at  a  lovely  angle!" 
said  he;  "and  there's  about  enough  mercury  on  'em 
to  make  calomel  for  a  sick  cat.  There's  been  talent 
in  this  mill,  me  boy!" 

He  crawled  up  the  ore  chute  into  the  bin,  and  cast 
a  critical  gaze  upon  the  rock  heaped  up  close  to  the 
crusher.  Then  he  examined  the  battery  of  stamps 
with  silent  awe.  "This,"  said  McGinnis,  softly  to 
himself,  "is  the  end  of  the  whole  and  in  tire  earth! 
Is  it  a  confectionery  shop  they've  got,  I  wonder? 
They  do  well  to  mash  sugar  with  them  lemon  squeez- 
ers, to  say  nothing  of  the  Homestake  refractories." 

He  passed  on  about  the  mill  in  his  tour  of  inspec- 
tion, still  whistling  and  still  critical,  until  he  came 
to  the  patent  labor-saving  ore  crusher,  which  some 


HEART'S  DESIRE  265 

inventor  had  sold  to  the  former  manager  of  the  New 
Jersey  Gold  Mills  Company,  along  with  other  things. 
McGinnis  drifted  to  this  instinctively,  as  does  the 
born  mechanician  to  the  gist  of  any  problem  in 
mechanics. 

"Take  shame  to  ye  fer  this,  me  man,  whoiwer  ye 
were,"  said  McGinnis,  and  the  blood  shot  up  under 
his  freckles  in  indignation.  "This  is  so  bad  it's  not 
only  unmechanical  and  unprofissional  —  it's  abso- 
lutely unsportsmanlike!" 

His  ardor  overcame  him,  and,  hammer  in  hand,  he 
swung  down  into  the  ore  bin  underneath  the  crusher. 
"Here's  where  it  is,"  said  he  to  himself.  "With 
the  jaw  screwed  that  tight,  how  cud  ye  hope  to 
handle  this  stuff  —  especially  since  the  intilligent 
and  discriminatin'  mine-boss  was  sendin'  down  quartz 
that's  more'n  half  porphyry!  Yer  little  donkey 
injin,  and  yer  little  sugar  mashers,  and  yer  little 
lemon  squeezer  of  a  crusher  —  yah !  It's  a  grocery 
store  ye've  got,  and  not  a  stamp  mill.  Loose  off 
yer  nut  on  the  lower  jaw,  man;  loose  her  off !" 

McGinnis  was  a  man  of  action.  In  a  moment  he 
was  tapping  at  the  clenched  bolt  with  the  head  of  his 
bright  steel  hammer.  Slowly  at  first,  and  sullenly, 
for  it  had  long  been  used  to  treatment  that  Mc- 
Ginnis called  "unsportsmanlike";  then  gently  and 
kindly  as  it  felt  the  hand  of  the  master,  the  head  of 
the  bolt  began  to  turn,  until  at  length  the  workman 
was  satisfied.    Then  he  turned  also  the  corresponding 


266  HEART'S  DESIRE 

nut  on  the  opposite  face  of  the  jaw,  swung  the  great 
steel  jaw  back  to  the  place  where  he  fancied  it,  and 
made  all  fast  again.  "She's  but  a  rat-trap,"  said  he 
to  himself,  "but  it's  only  fair  to  give  the  rat-trap  its 
show." 

McGinnis  went  out  and  sat  down  upon  a  pile  of  ore. 
It  was  a  bright  and  cloudless  morning,  such  as  may 
be  seen  nowhere  in  the  world  but  in  Heart's  Desire. 
The  Patos  Mountains,  across  the  valley,  seemed  so 
close  that  one  might  lay  his  hand  upon  them.  The 
sun  was  bright  and  unwinking,  and  all  the  air  so 
golden  sweet  that  McGinnis  pushed  back  his  hat 
and  gloried  simply  that  he  was  alive.  He  did  not 
even  note  the  cottontail  that  came  out  from  behind 
a  bush  to  peer  at  him,  nor  mark  the  sweeping  shadow 
of  a  passing  eagle  that  swung  high  above  the  little 
valley.  His  eye  now  and  again  fell  upon  the  aban- 
doned mill,  gaunt,  idle  and  silent;  yet  he  regarded 
it  lazily,  the  spell  of  the  spot  and  the  languor  of  the 
air  rilling  all  his  soul. 

But  at  last  the  sun  grew  more  ardent,  and  McGin- 
nis, knowing  the  secret  of  the  dry  Southwest,  sought 
shade  in  order  that  he  might  be  cool.  He  rose  and 
strolled  again  into  the  mill,  looking  about  him  as 
before,  idly  and  critically.  "Av  ye  was  all  me  own, 
it's  quite  a  coffee  mill  I  cud  make  of  ye,  me  dear," 
said  he,  familiarly.  And  at  this  moment  a  thought 
seemed  to  strike  him. 

"It  has  always  been  me  dream  to  be  a  captain 


HEART'S  DESIRE  267 

of  industhry,"  soliloquized  McGinnis.  "I've  always 
longed  to  hear  the  busy  hum  of  me  own  wheels,  and 
to  feel  that  I  was  the  employer  and  not  merely  the 
employ eed."  He  mused  for  a  few  moments,  too  lazy 
to  think  far  at  one  flight. 

"It  wud  be  nice,"  he  resumed  later,  "to  see  the 
smoke  of  your  own  facthory  ascendin'  to  the  sky, 
and  to  feel  that  yerself  'uz  the  whole  affair,  cook  and 
captain  bold,  ore  shoveller,  head  ingineer,  amalgama- 
tor and  main  squeeze." 

"All  capital,"  continued  McGinnis,  "is  too  much 
depindent  upon  labor.  The  only  real  solution — " 
he  paused  to  feel  his  pockets  for  a  match  —  "the 
only  real  solution  is  to  be  both  capital  and  labor. 
Then,  av  yeVe  anny  kick,  take  it  to  yourself,  and 
settle  it  fair  fer  both !"  He  paused  again,  and  again 
the  light  of  his  idea  showed  upon  his  countenance. 
"This,"  said  McGinnis,  "is  Accajyun!" 

He  wandered  over  to  the  little  boiler  which  drove 
the  engine,  and  took  inventory  of  the  pile  of  crooked 
pifion  wood  that  lay  heaped  up  near  by.  He  sounded 
the  tank  on  top  of  the  engine  house,  and  found  that 
it  was  half  full.  Then,  calmly  and  methodically, 
he  took  off  his  coat,  folded  it,  and  laid  it  across  a 
bench.  He  picked  up  a  piece  of  board,  whittled  a 
little  pile  of  shavings,  thrust  them  into  the  ashy 
grate,  and  piled  some  wood  above  them.  Then  he 
scraped  a  match,  and  turning  a  cock  or  so  to  satisfy 
himself  that  the  boiler  would  not  go  out  through  the 


268  HEART'S  DESIRE 

roof  in  case  he  did  get  up  steam,  sat  down  to  await 
developments.  " She'll  steam  for  sure,"  he  rumi- 
nated. "  She'll  steam  as  much  as  wud  do  for  a  peanut 
wagon,  av  ye  give  her  time." 

Before  the  morning  was  gone  the  little  boiler  began 
to  thump  and  churn  and  threaten.  McGinnis  ran  the 
belt  on  to  the  stamp  shaft.  He  went  up  and  con- 
nected the  crusher  and  shovelled  a  few  barrows  of 
ore  into  the  hopper.  Not  long  afterwards  there 
was  a  dull  and  creaking  rumble.  The  shaft  of  the 
stamps  turned  half  around,  slipped  and  stopped  with 
a  rusty  squeak.  Then  came  further  creaks,  groans, 
and  rumbles.  McGinnis  walked  calmly  from  place  to 
place,  tightening,  loosening,  shaking,  testing,  shovel- 
ling, and  watching. 

"It's  wonderful,"  said  he  to  himself,  softly.  "It's 
just  wonderful  what  human  bein's  can  do!  If  I 
hadn't  ever  seen  this  mill,  I  wuddn't  have  believed  it ! 
But  I'll  say  at  this  point  meself,  that  I'm  not  looking 
a  gift  mill  in  the  mouth.  Moreover,  this  runnin'  of 
your  own  mill,  not  bein'  beholden  to  any  sordid  capi- 
talist, nor  yet  depindent  on  anny  inefficient  labor, 
is  what  I  may  call  a  truly  ijeel  situation  in  life.  I'll 
stay  here  till  the  wood  runs  out.  Not  that  I'll  cut 
wood  for  annybody.  Capital  must  draw  the  line 
somewhere!" 

No  one  noticed  the  smoke  from  the  abandoned 
gold  mill.  McGinnis  ran  it  by  himself  and  undis- 
turbed until  his  woodpile  waned.    Then  he  discon- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  269 

nected,  blew  off,  and  set  to  work  to  scrape  his  plates, 
whereon  to  his  experienced  eye  there  now  appeared 
a  gratifying  roughness  in  the  coating.  He  got  off  a 
lump  of  amalgam  as  big  as  his  fist,  and  was  content. 
"It's  ojus  there's  no  retort  here,"  said  he,  "but  like 
enough  I'll  find  some  way  to  vollitilize  this  mercury." 

He  crossed  the  arroyo,  and  went  to  the  cabin 
which  had  once  been  the  office  of  the  assayer.  The 
latter  was  now  an  emigri,  but  he  had  left  his  crucibles 
and  his  furnace  behind  him;  because  it  is  not  con- 
venient to  carry  such  things  when  one  is  afoot. 
McGinnis  found  a  retort,  adjusted  it,  set  it  going, 
volatilized  the  mercury  from  his  amalgam,  and  in 
time  had  his  button  of  dirty  but  quite  valid  gold. 
It  lay  heavy  in  his  hand  and  rested  heavy  in  his  pocket. 
"As  a  captain  of  industhry,"  said  he,  "I  must  see 
what  I  can  do  for  poor  sufferin'  humanity."  He 
chuckled,  and  passed  out  into  the  street. 

"As  capital,"  said  McGinnis  to  himself,  walking 
on  in  the  moonlight,  "I  am  entitled  to  the  first  drink 
meself,  and  after  that  to  one  or  two  as  a  laborer. 
Then,  if  there's  anny  left,  after  treatin'  all  round, 
I'll  buy  the  town  a  public  liberry,  pervidin'  the 
town'll  make  it  sufficiently  and  generally  understood 
that  I'm  a  leadin'  and  public-minded  citizen  that  has 
reached  success  by  the  grace  of  God  and  a  extraor- 
dinary brain." 

But  McGinnis  in  his  philanthropic  intentions  met 
difficulty.    He  wandered  into  the  Lone  Star,  and 


270  HEART'S  DESIRE 

placing  his  crude  bullion  upon  the  counter,  swept 
about  him  a  comprehensive  hand.  To  his  wonder 
there  was  no  response.  A  few  of  the  assembled 
populace  shifted  uneasily  in  their  seats,  but  none 
arose.  "Do  you  take  this  for  a  low-down  placer 
camp?"  asked  Billy  Hudgens,  with  a  dull  show  of 
pride,  when  McGinnis  demanded  the  gold  scales. 

"No,"  said  McGinnis,  "it's  a  quartz  camp  right 
enough,  and  all  it  needs  is  developin'.  At  this 
speakin',  I'm  capital  and  labor  both,  and  crew  of  the 
Nancy  Brig.    What's  the  matter?" 

A  sigh  escaped  from  the  audience,  as  Billy  Hudgens 
made  reply.  "Not  a  drop,"  said  he;  "all  gone. 
Nothing  till  Tom  Osby  gets  back  from  Vegas,  and 
maybe  not  then.  I  owe  Gross  &  Blackwell  over 
two  hundred  now." 

McGinnis' s  voice  dropped  into  a  low,  intent  whisper. 
"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that?"  he  said.  "Me, 
with  my  thirst  ?  "  He  laid  a  hand  on  Billy's  shoulder. 
"Friend,"  said  he,  "I've  walked  two  hundred  miles. 
I've  developed  your  place.  I'm  in  a  position  to  give 
this  town  a  public  liberry  worth  maybe  forty  dollars. 
Now,  do  you  mean  to  say  to  me  —  do  you  mean  — " 
He  gulped,  unable  to  proceed.  Hudgens  nodded. 
McGinnis  let  fall  his  hand  from  the  counter,  turned 
and  silently  left  the  place. 

He  moved  up  the  street  to  the  adobe  where  the 
barber  had  his  shop.  The  barber  was  gloomily  sit- 
ting inside,  waiting.    McGinnis  entered,  and  looked 


HEART'S  DESIRE  271 

about  him  with  the  ease  of  one  revisiting  familiar 
scenes. 

In  a  case  upon  the  wall  were  rows  of  shaving  mugs, 
now  dusty  and  abandoned,  mute  witnesses  of  a  former 
era  of  glory.  Indeed,  they  remained  an  historical 
record  of  earlier  life  in  Heart's  Desire. 

Once  there  had  been  rivalry  between  McGinnis  and 
Tom  Redmond  for  the  affections  of  a  widow  who  kept 
a  boarding-house  in  Heart's  Desire,  the  same  long 
since  departed.  There  came  by  express  one  day, 
addressed  to  Tom  Redmond,  a  shaving  mug  of  great 
beauty  and  considerable  size,  whereon  the  name  of 
Tom  Redmond,  handsomely  emblazoned,  led  all  the 
rest.  The  fame  of  this  work  of  art  so  spread  abroad 
that  Tom  Redmond,  as  befitted  one  who  had  attained 
social  distinction,  became  the  recipient  of  increased 
smiles  from  the  widow  aforesaid.  McGinnis  bided 
his  time.  Thirty  days  later,  there  arrived  by  stage 
for  him  a  shaving  mug  of  such  stature  and  such 
exceeding  art  as  cast  that  of  Tom  Redmond  com- 
pletely in  the  shade !  Thenceforth  the  widow  smiled 
upon  McGinnis.  Tom  Redmond,  unable  to  endure 
this  humiliation,  and  in  the  limitation  of  thing? 
wholly  unable  to  raise  the  McGinnis  ante  in  shaving 
mugs,  was  obliged  to  leave  the  town.  McGinnis  hung 
upon  the  handle  of  the  Redmond  mug  a  goodly  card 
bearing  the  legend,  "Gone,  but  not  forgotten." 
Shortly  after  that  McGinnis  himself  left  town.  Alas ! 
at  the  instance  of  the  widow  the  barber  hung  upon 


272  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  McGinnis  mug  a  similar  card ;  it  having  appeared 
that  McGinnis  had  emigrated  without  paying  either 
his  board  bill  or  his  barber's  bill. 

This  evidence  of  his  early  delinquency  now  con- 
fronted McGinnis  as  he  stepped  into  the  shop  for  the 
first  time  in  these  years.  He  regarded  it  with  dis- 
pleasure. "Take  it  off,"  said  he  to  the  barber, 
sternly.  (ft  paid  the  widdy  in  Butte,  two  years  ago. 
As  for  yourself,  I  have  come  six  hundred  miles  to 
pay  my  bill  to  you.  Take  it  out  of  that."  He  pre- 
sented his  heavy  button  of  gold. 

The  barber  protested  that  he  could  not  make 
change  on  this  basis,  but  cheerfully  extended  the 
credit.  He  was  glad  to  see  McGinnis  back  again, 
for  he  was  most  promisingly  hairy. 

"I  am  back,  but  I'll  not  be  stayin'  long,"  said 
McGinnis.     "Have  ye  annything  to  drink?" 

The  barber  mournfully  shook  his  head,  even  as  had 
Billy  Hudgens.  McGinnis,  refusing  to  believe  such 
heavy  news,  walked  up  to  the  mantle,  picked  up  a 
tall  bottle  labelled  "  Hair  tonic,"  smelled  of  it,  and 
without  asking  leave,  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  drained 
it  to  the  bottom. 

"For  industhrial  purposes,  friend,"  said  he.  In 
twenty  minutes  he  was  lying  in  a  deep  and  dreamless 
sleep. 

"In  some  ways  this  fellow  has  talent,"  said  Billy 
Hudgens,  as  he  looked  in  on  McGinnis  later;  "but 
like  enough  he's  come  to  a  show-down  now." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  273 

Until  noon  the  next  day  McGinnis  slept  soundly. 
Then  he  sat  up  on  the  floor.  "How're  you  feelin' 
now,  man?"  asked  Billy  Hudgens. 

"Friend,"  said  McGinnis,  "I'm  feelin'  some  dark 
and  hairy  inwardly ;  but  I'm  a  livin'  example  of  how 
a  man  can  thriumph  over  circumstances."  Where- 
with he  smiled  gently,  sank  back,  and  slept  again  till 
dark. 

"It  wud  have  been  too  bad,"  said  McGinnis  to  the 
barber  when  he  awoke,  "if  you  had  left  this  town 
before  I  came.  What  ye've  all  been  needin'  is  some 
one  to  give  ye  a  lesson  in  not  gettin'  discouraged. 

"As  for  combinin'  hair  tonic  and  strong  drink  into 
one  ingradyint,  if  anny  one  tells  you  it's  a  good  thing, 
you  may  say  for  me  the  report  lacks  confirmashun. 
But  we'll  not  despair.  Aside  from  the  proverb  about 
the  will  and  the  way,  'tis  well  known  that  no  disgrace 
can  come  to  a  real  captain  of  industhry  through  a 
timporary  change  in  the  industhrial  conditions.  I'm 
sayin'  to  you,  get  in  a  new  chair,  and  get  ready  for  the 
boom." 


CHAPTER  XX 

MEDICINE  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

How  the  Girl  from  the  States  kept  the  Set  of  Twins  from 
being  broken 

Even  as  the  stouter-hearted  captains  of  Heart's 
Desire  began  to  voice  their  confidence,  a  sudden 
sense  of  helplessness,  of  personal  inadequacy,  came 
upon  Porter  Barkley,  erstwhile  leader  of  the  forces  of 
the  A.  P.  and  S.  E.  Railway  Company.  With  emotions 
of  chagrin  and  humiliation  he  found  himself  obliged 
wholly  to  readjust  his  estimate  of  himself  and  his 
powers.  He  had  come  hither  full  of  confidence, 
accustomed  to  success,  animated  by  a  genial  conde- 
scension toward  these  benighted  men ;  and  now,  how 
quickly  had  the  situation  been  reversed!  Nay, 
worse  than  reversed.  He,  Porter  Barkley,  a  man 
who  had  bought  a  legislature  in  his  time,  was  ignored, 
forgotten  by  these  strangers,  as  though  he  did  not 
exist!  More  than  that,  Ellsworth  was  reticent  with 
him ;  and  worst  of  all,  when  he  met  Constance  at  the 
table  she  gave  him  no  more  than  a  curt  nod  and  a 
polite  forgetfulness  of  his  presence. 

Porter  Barkley  wished  nothing  so  much  as  speedily 
to  get  away  from  the  scene  of  his  twofold  defeat, 

274 


HEART'S  DESIRE  275 

although  he  knew  that  farewell  meant  dismissal.  He 
knew  also  that  he  could  restore  himself  to  the  respect 
of  Heart's  Desire  in  only  one  way;  but  he  did  not 
go  out  on  the  street  in  search  of  that  way,  although 
the  Socorro  stage  was  a  full  day  late  in  its  departure, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  remain  a  prisoner  indoors. 

Indeed,  Constance  and  her  father  were  little  better 
than  prisoners  as  well,  for  no  possible  means  of  loco- 
motion offered  whereby  they  could  get  out  of  town; 
and  all  Heart's  Desire  remained  aloof  from  them, 
not  even  the  Littlest  Girl  coming  across  the  arroyo 
to  call  on  Constance  at  the  hotel. 

"I'd  like  to  have  her  come  over  to  see  the  twins," 
said  Curly  to  his  spouse,  "but  I  reckon  like  enough 
she's  sore." 

"I'd  be  mighty  glad  to  have  a  good  square  talk 
with  some  woman  from  the  States,"  rejoined  the 
Littlest  Girl,  hesitatingly.  "I'd  sort  of  like  to  know 
what  folks  is  wearin'  back  there  now.  Besides 
that—" 

"Besides  what?" 

"I  don't  more'n  half  believe  her  and  Dan  Anderson 
is  gettin'  along  very  well,  someway." 

"That  so?  Well,  I  don't  see  how  they  can,  the 
way  he  throwed  the  spurs  into  her  pa  the  other  night." 

"He  just  worships  the  ground  that  girl  walks  on." 

"You  oughtn't  to  talk  so  much.  That  ain't  our 
business  —  but  how  do  you  know?" 

"Well,  because  I  do  know,"  responded  the  Littlest 


276  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Girl,  warmly.  "  Don't  you  suppose  I  can  see  ?  I've 
talked  with  Dan  every  time  he  come  up  here  to  buy 
a  pie  —  talked  about  that  girl.  He  buys  mere  pies 
now  than  he  used  to.     I  reckon  I  know." 

"That  may  all  be.  Question  is,  how's  she  a-feelin' 
toward  him  these  days?" 

" Curly,"  after  a  little  silence,  "I'm  going  to  put 
on  my  bonnet  and  go  over  there  and  see  that  girl. 
She's  all  alone.  I'll  take  her  a  pie.  I  always  did 
think  she  was  nice." 

"Well,  all  right.  There's  Bill  Godfrey  drivin' 
the  stage  out  of  his  barn  now.  I'll  go  over  to  the 
post-office  and  help  the  old  man  with  the  mail. 
May  ride  out  as  far  as  the  ranch  with  Bill  and  see  if 
Mac  has  anything  special  to  do.  There  was  talk  of 
that  Nogal  sheep  outfit  gettin'  in  on  the  lower  end 
of  our  range.  If  they  do,  something'll  pop  for  sure. 
You  go  on  over  to  the  hotel  if  you  want  to.  Ma'll  take 
care  of  the  twins." 

The  departure  of  the  stage  for  Socorro  occurred 
once  a  week  or  so,  if  all  went  well,  and  the  event 
was  always  one  of  importance.  Even  Mr.  Ellsworth 
and  Constance  found  themselves  joining  the  groups 
which  wandered  now  toward  the  post-office,  next 
door  to  Whiteman's  store,  in  front  of  which  Bill 
Godfrey  regularly  made  his  first  stop  preparatory  to 
leaving  town.  As  they  two  passed  up  the  street  from 
the  hotel,  they  missed  the  Littlest  Girl,  who  crossed 
the  arroyo  above  them  by  a  quarter  of  a  mile ;  Heart's 


HEART'S  DESIRE  277 

Desire  being,  in  view  of  its  population,  a  city  of  mag- 
nificent distances. 

The  man  from  Leavenworth,  postmaster}  had 
nearly  finished  the  solemn  performance  of  locking  up 
the  emaciated  mail-bag  for  Socorro,  and  Bill  Godfrey 
was  looking  intently  at  his  watch  —  which  had  not 
gone  for  six  months  —  when  all  at  once  the  assem- 
blage in  and  around  the  post-office  was  startled  by 
shrieks,  screams,  and  calls  of  the  most  alarming 
nature.  These  rapidly  approached  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  arroyo,  beyond  which  lay  the  residence 
portion  of  Heart's  Desire.  Presently  there  was  to 
be  distinguished  the  voice  of  a  woman,  raised  in  ter- 
rified lamentations,  accompanied  with  the  broken 
screams  of  a  child  in  evident  distress.  There  ap- 
peared, hastening  toward  the  group  in  front  of  the 
store,  Curly's  mother-in-law,  wife  of  the  postmaster 
of  Heart's  Desire,  and  guardian  as  well  of  the  twins 
of  Heart's  Desire.  It  was  one  of  these  twins,  Ara- 
bella, whom  she  now  hurried  along  with  her,  at  such 
speed  that  the  child's  feet  scarce  touched  the  ground. 
When  this  latter  did  happen,  Arabella  seemed  syn- 
chronously to  catch  her  breath,  becoming  thus  able 
to  emit  one  more  spasmodic  wail.  There  was  pain 
and  fright  in  the  cries,  and  the  whole  attitude  of  the 
woman  from  Kansas  was  such  that  all  knew  some 
tragedy  had  occurred  or  was  impending. 

"Good  Lord!"  cried  Curly,  'Til  bet  a  thousand 
dollars  the  kid's  got  my  strychnine  bottle  this  time ! 


278  HEART'S  DESIRE 

I  left  it  in  the  window.  There  was  enough  to  poison 
a  thousand  coyotes!" 

He  sprang  forward  to  catch  the  other  arm  of  the 
sobbing  child.  The  man  from  Kansas,  postmaster 
of  Heart's  Desire,  hastened  to  join  his  wife  in  the 
street,  wagging  his  gray  beard  in  wild  queries.  In 
half  a  moment  all  the  population  was  massed  in  front 
of  Whiteman's  store,  incoherent,  frightened,  utterly 
helpless. 

"  She's  dyin' ! "  cried  the  woman  from  Kansas. 
" Poison!  Oh,  Willyam,  what  shall  we  do?"  But 
the  postmaster  was  unable  to  offer  any  aid  or  counsel. 

"I  just  left  it  there  in  the  window,"  explained 
Curly,  excitedly;  "I  was  goin'  to  put  out  some  baits 
around  a  water  hole,  about  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  it's  awful !"  sobbed  the  woman  from  Kansas. 
"What  shall  we  do?    What  shall  we  do?" 

"Doc,"  said  Curly  to  Doc  Tomlinson,  "you  run 
the  drug  store  —  ain't  you  got  no  anecdote  for  this?" 
Doc  Tomlinson  could  only  shake  his  head  mournfully. 
A  ring  of  bearded,  beweaponed  men  gathered  about 
the  little  sufferer,  hopeless,  at  their  wits'  end. 

Constance  and  her  father,  hurrying  to  learn  the 
cause  of  the  commotion,  received  but  incoherent 
answers  to  their  questions.  "Good  Lord!  girl, 
that  child's  hurt!"  cried  Ellsworth,  helpless  as  the 
others.     "What'll  we  do?" 

Constance  did  not  even  reply  to  him.  Without 
his  assistance,  indeed  without  looking  to  right  or  left, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  279 

she  made  straight  through  the  circle  of  men,  who  gave 
way  to  admit  her. 

" What's  the  trouble  here?  What's  wrong ?"  she 
demanded  sharply,  catching  the  weeping  woman  by 
the  arm,  even  as  she  reached  out  a  hand  toward  the 
suffering  Arabella. 

"Poison!"  wailed  the  woman  from  Kansas  again. 
"  She's  goin'  to  die !    There  ain't  no  way  to  help  it." 

"What  poison  —  what  has  the  child  taken?" 
asked  Constance. 

"It  was  strychnine,  ma'am,  like  enough,"  ven- 
tured Curly.     "There  was  some — " 

"Nonsense!  It's  not  strychnine,"  cried  the  girl. 
In  an  instant  her  eye  had  caught  what  every  other 
individual  present  had  overlooked,  although  it  was 
certainly  the  most  obvious  object  in  all  the  landscape, 

—  the  half -empty  can  which  still  remained  tightly 
clutched  in  Arabella's  free  hand. 

"Why,  here  it  is!"  she  exclaimed.  "The  child 
has  eaten  concentrated  lye.  Quick!  Get  her  in 
somewhere.    What  are  you  standing  around  here  for 

—  get  out  of  the  way,  you  men !" 

They  scattered,  and  Constance  glanced  about  her. 
"Where's  some  grease  —  some  lard?  Quick!"  she 
called  out  to  Whiteman,  who  was  looking  on. 

"In  here,  lady  —  dis  vay,"  he  answered  eagerly; 
but  she  outfooted  him  to  the  rear  of  the  store,  carrying 
Arabella  in  her  arms.  Spying  a  lard  tin,  she  thrust 
off  the  cover,  and  plunged  in  a  hand.    Immediately 


280  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  sobs  of  Arabella  changed  to  sputterings,  for  the 
physician  in  charge  had  covered  her  face,  lips,  and  a 
goodly  portion  of  the  interior  of  her  mouth  and 
throat  with  the  ameliorating  unguent!  At  this  act 
of  first  aid,  the  wails  of  the  woman  from  Kansas 
ceased  also,  and  a  vast  sigh  of  relief  arose  from  the 
confederated  helplessness  of  Heart's  Desire. 

"Is  she  going  to  die?"  gasped  the  woman  from 
Kansas. 

" No,"  said  Constance,  scornfully.  " I've  seen  much 
worse  burns.  The  lye  has  perhaps  lost  a  little  of  its 
strength,  too.  The  burns  are  all  well  in  the  front 
of  the  mouth  and  tongue,  and  I  don't  think  she 
swallowed  any  of  it.  Lard  is  as  good  as  anything 
to  stop  the  burn.    Why  didn't  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am,"  confessed  the  woman  from 
Kansas. 

A  sudden  loquacity  now  seized  upon  all  those 
recently  perturbed  and  silent. 

"Now,"  said  Curly,  "it's  this-a-way;  the  women 
they  must  have  left  that  can  of  lye  settin'  around.  It's 
mighty  careless  of  'em.  I  needed  my  strychnine,  but 
there  ain't  no  sense  in  leavin'  lye  settin'  around. 
Them  twins  was  due  to  eat  it,  shore.  Why,  they 
was  broke  to  eat  anything  that  comes  in  tin  cans!" 

Constance  gathered  Arabella  in  her  arms.  The 
tailored  gown  was  ruined  now.  One  hand  remained 
gloved,  but  both  were  grease-laden  to  the  wrists. 
She  was  unconscious  of  all  this.    Her  gaze,  frowning, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  281 

solicitous,  maternal,  bent  itself  upon  the  face  of  her 
patient.  The  men  of  Heart's  Desire  looked  on, 
silent,  relieved,  adoring.  A  few  began  to  edge 
toward  the  open  air. 

"You  ain't  no  kind  of  a  drug-store  man,"  said  the 
postmaster,  scornfully,  to  Tomlinson. 

"  Why  ain't  I  ?  "  retorted  the  latter,  hotly.  "  What 
chance  does  a  merchant  get  in  this  town?  What  do 
I  get  for  carrying  a  full  line  of  drugs  here  for  years? 
Now,  lard  ain't  drugs.  It  ain't  in  the  pharmacopy." 
"I  don't  know  but  it's  a  good  thing  for  that  kid," 
said  Curly.  "She  ought  to  be  plumb  soft-spoken 
all  her  life,  after  all  that  lard  in  her  frontispiece.  But 
it  won't  do  'em  no  good,  —  they'll  eat  my  strychnine 
next.  This  here  stage-coach  —  with  her  along," 
jerking  his  thumb  towards  the  physician  in  charge, 
"won't  be  any  more'n  out  of  sight  before  that  twin 
corporation  will  be  fryin'  dynamite  on  the  kitchen 
stove.  I  shore  thought  that  set  of  twins  was  busted 
this  time  for  keeps.  Unless  there's  two  of  'em, 
twins  ain't  no  good !" 

"Ma'am,  your  dress  is  just  ruined,"  said  the  woman 
from  Kansas;  "you  are  lard  clean  from  head  to 
foot!" 

"I  know  it,"  cried  Constance,  gayly,  the  color 
coming  to  her  cheeks;  "but  never  mind,  the  baby's 
all  right  now." 

"Well,  you've  got  to  come  over  to  our  house  and 
get  fixed  up.    Was  you  goin'  out  on  the  stage  ?    You 


282  HEART'S  DESIRE 

stay  here  for  a  day  or  so  and  watch  that  child ;  we'd 
like  it  mighty  well  if  you  would." 

It  was  a  flag  of  truce  from  Heart's  Desire.  Never- 
theless, Constance  seemed  to  hesitate.  Ah!  wily 
Constance.  A  great  many  things  might  happen 
which  had  not  yet  happened,  but  which  ought  to 
happen.  And  in  all  that  group  Dan  Anderson  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  Perhaps  after  a  time  he  might 
come! 

Constance  hesitated  just  long  enough.  The  dignity 
of  Bill  Godfrey  had  to  be  sustained.  His  stage- 
coach had  not  started  on  the  appointed  and  stipu- 
lated time  any  day  these  many  months ;  yet  for  that 
stage,  ready  equipped  for  its  journey,  to  stand  wait- 
ing idly  upon  the  convenience  of  any  mortal  after  the 
"mails"  had  been  brought  out  from  the  post-office 
and  placed  safely  in  the  boot,  was  mortal  affront 
to  any  stage-driver's  reputation.  Bill  Godfrey  again 
looked  solemnly  at  his  watch  and  gathered  up  the 
reins.  " All  aboard!"  he  cried.  "Git  up!"  and  so 
swung  a  wide  circle  and  headed  down  the  street  to 
the  hotel.  Presently  he  departed.  He  carried  a 
solitary  passenger.  Constance  and  her  father  were 
still  prisoners,  or  guests,  in  Heart's  Desire  for  an 
indefinite  time!  And  in  an  indefinite  time  many 
things  may  occur. 

In  his  house  across  the  arroyo  Dan  Anderson  en- 
dured the  silence  and  loneliness  as  long  as  he  could, 
turning  over  and  over  again  in  his  mind  the  old  ques- 


HEART'S  DESIRE  283 

tions  to  which  he  had  found  no  answer.  Most  of  all, 
one  question  was  insistent.  Had  he  been  just  to  her, 
to  Constance,  in  allowing  himself  to  accept  her  alleged 
conduct  as  a  motive  for  his  own  actual  conduct  ?  He 
had  taken  for  granted  much  —  all  —  and  upon  what 
manner  of  testimony?  The  babblings  of  a  half- 
witted herder!  He  had  asked  the  men  of  Heart's 
Desire  to  hear  both  sides  of  his  own  case.  The  men 
of  Heart's  Desire  had  heard  both  sides  of  the  rail- 
road's case.  But  he  had  condemned  without  trial  the 
woman  whom  he  loved  —  her  —  Constance !  It  was 
impossible,  unbelievable  of  any  man. 

When  the  horror  of  this  thought  broke  upon  him 
fully,  Dan  Anderson  sprang  up,  caught  his  hat,  and 
started  fast  as  he  might  for  the  hotel.  He  crossed  the 
arroyo  below  the  post-office,  and  so  did  not  know,  at 
the  time,  of  the  peril  and  rescue  of  Arabella.  Nor 
did  he  know  that  all  of  Heart's  Desire  was  penitent 
regarding  her  and  her  father ;  nor  that  both  were  to 
remain  for  yet  a  little  time. 

Dan  Anderson  approached  the  stone  hotel  in  time 
to  watch  the  stage  depart,  himself  unobserved.  Then 
he  stepped  farther  toward  the  hotel  door.  He  met 
the  Littlest  Girl  just  emerging  from  the  building, 
whither  she  had  gone  upon  the  same  errand  as  his 
own. 

"She  ain't  here,  Mr.  Anderson,"  explained  the 
Littlest  Girl;  "her  and  her  pa  has  just  went  to  the 
post-office. " 


284  HEART'S  DESIRE 

He  looked  at  her  silently.  "  Oh,  I  know  who  you 
come  to  see,"  asserted  the  Littlest  Girl,  "and  I  don't 
blame  you.    It's  time  you  did,  too." 

Without  a  word  he  turned  and  walked  with  her  up 
the  street,  there  to  miss  Constance  by  three  moments, 
which,  potentially,  might  have  been  a  life-time. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

JUSTICE  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  Story  of  a  Sheriff  and  Some  Bad  Men ;  showing  also 
a  Day's  Work,  and  a  Man's  Medicine 

"Dad,  you've  been  drinking!"  burst  out  Con- 
stance as  her  father  met  her  at  the  door  of  Curly 's 
house.  She  had  heard  footsteps,  and  hastened  to 
meet  the  visitor.  Perhaps  it  was  disappointment, 
perhaps  indignation  with  herself  that  she  had  listened, 
that  she  had  waited,  which  caused  her  to  greet  her 
parent  with  such  asperity. 

"You  wrong  me,  daughter!"  protested  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, solemnly;  "only  took  one  or  two  little  ones, 
to  celebrate  the  saving  of  the  twin.  You've  made 
a  great  hit  with  those  people  over  there.  They'd 
all  celebrate,  if  there  was  anything  to  drink.  I  had 
to  stock  the  Lone  Star  myself  out  of  my  valise.  They 
won't  have  anything  in  till  Tom  Osby  comes. 

"I  say,"  he  resumed,  taking  his  daughter's  arm 
with  genial  gallantry  as  they  stepped  out  into  the 
sunlight  together,  "these  people  are  not  so  bad. 
They're  warming  up  right  along  now.  If  you  and  I 
could  stay  here  awhile,  we'd  get  along  with  'em  all 
right  —  better  understanding  all   around." 

285 


286  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Her  face  brightened.  "Then  you  don't  give  up 
the  railroad?" 

"No;  by  no  means.  I  never  give  up  a  thing  I 
want.  Besides,  I  wouldn't  mind  coming  here  to 
live  for  a  while.    The  climate's  glorious." 

"You  live  here?  You'd  look  well  in  a  wide  hat 
and  a  blue  shirt,  wouldn't  you,  dad?" 

"More  irreverence !  Of  course  I'd  look  well.  And 
it's  worth  something  to  eat  the  way  I  do  here.  I'm 
getting  better  every  day.  Why,  they  tell  me  no 
one  has  died  out  here  in  a  hundred  years.  A  man 
can  eat  anything  from  cactus  to  sole  leather,  and 
keep  hearty.  I  saw  a  lot  of  fellows  over  there  just 
now,  sitting  flat  on  the  ground  in  the  sun  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  street,  eating  dried  beef  and  canned 
tomatoes,  and  they  looked  so  happy  that  I  sat  down 
and  took  a  bite  with  them.  They  are  just  travelling 
through,  —  sheriff's  party  from  somewhere,  going 
somewhere  after  somebody." 

"What's  that,  Mr.  Ellsworth?"  the  woman  from 
Kansas  came  out  and  inquired;  for  she  knew  better 
than  he  what  that  meant.  "Sheriff?  Was  he  a 
tall,  slim  man,  longish  mustache,  sorter  thin?" 

Ellsworth  nodded;  the  woman  wiped  her  hands 
on  her  blue-checked  apron.  Constance  glanced  at  her 
serious  face,  and  wondered. 

"Then  it's  Ben  Stillson,"  the  woman  from  Kansas 
said,  "the  sheriff  of  Blanco.  He's  after  somebody. 
Did  he  summons  any  of  our  men  along?" 


HEART'S  DESIRE  287 

"I  don't  know,  madam/'  answered  Ellsworth. 
The  woman  said  no  more;  she  only  watched  and 
listened. 

It  was  this  posse,  headed  by  the  sheriff  of  Blanco, 
that  Dan  Anderson  and  the  Littlest  Girl  saw  when 
they  reached  a  point  midway  between  Uncle  Jim 
Brothers's  hotel  and  the  post-office.  The  little  group 
of  riders,  dusty  and  travel-stained,  had  come  at  a 
steady  trot  down  the  street.  Stillson,  tall,  grim- 
featured,  and  bronzed,  looked  neither  to  the  right 
nor  to  the  left.  He  stopped,  and  ordered  his  men 
to  dismount  and  eat.  They  swung  out  of  their 
saddles  without  a  word,  loosening  the  cinches  to 
breathe  their  horses.  The  men  of  Heart's  Desire 
began  to  gather  around  them. 

" What's  up,  Ben?"  asked  McKinney,  the  one 
most  apt  to  be  concerned ;  for  cow  men  had  borne  the 
brunt  of  outlawry  in  that  land  for  more  than  a  genera- 
tion. "Has  Chacon  come  across  from  Arizona,  or  has 
the  Kid  broke  out  again?" 

The  sheriff  looked  at  him  gravely.  "The  Kid's 
out,"  said  he.  "We  had  him  and  two  others  at 
Seven  Rivers,  but  he  broke  out  four  days  ago.  He 
killed  the  jailer  and  a  couple  of  Mexicans  farther 
up  the  river.  There's  four  in  his  bunch  now,  and 
we've  trailed  them  this  far.  They're  likely  headed 
for  Sumner.  We  dropped  in  here,  across  the  Patos, 
to  get  a  couple  of  men  or  so.  How  are  you  fixed 
here?" 


288  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Wait  till  I  get  a  Winchester/'  said  McKinney, 
briefly,  and  started  down  the  street. 

"Whiteman,"  Doc  Tomlinson  volunteered,  "you 
'tend  to  my  drug  store  while  I'm  away,  and  if  any- 
body wants  any  drugs,  you  go  get  'em." 

"You  all  hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Curly,  hurrying 
forward,  "while  I  run  over  home  and  git  saddled  up." 
He  did  not  see  the  Littlest  Girl  approaching,  but  the 
sheriff  did. 

"Never  mind,  Curly,"  said  the  sheriff,  quietly, 
pointing  to  her,  "I  want  one  more  man,  a  single 
man." 

"You,  Curly!"  interrupted  his  spouse,  "you  stay 
right  where  you  are.  You  get  some  one  else,  Mr. 
Stillson.  He's  got  a  family,  and  besides,  he's  such 
a  fool." 

Curly  flushed.  "Was  it  my  fault  I  got  married?" 
he  began  hotly.  "And  them  twins,  was  they  mine, 
real?  Now  look  here  — "  But  the  sheriff  shook 
his  head.    He  looked  at  Dan  Anderson  inquiringly. 

"  Certainly  I'll  go,"  said  he.    "  Wait  till  I  get  fixed." 

"  That's  as  many  as  I'll  need,"  said  Stillson.  "  Hurry 
up,  all  of  you." 

Dan  Anderson  hastened  across  the  arroyo  to  his 
house,  first  asking  Curly  to  get  him  a  horse.  Curly 
departed  to  his  own  home  with  the  Littlest  Girl;  so 
that  Constance  presently  got  fuller  news  of  the  arrival 
of  the  sheriff's  party,  and  learned  also  that  Dan 
Anderson  was  to  join  them. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  289 

"But,  Curly,"  cried  Constance,  "isn't  it  dangerous? 
Won't  some  one  get  hurt?"  She  winced.  The 
steady  flame  of  her  own  brave  heart  flickered  at  this 
new  terror. 

"Kin  savvy?"  grinned  Curly.  "The  Kid's  gang 
shore'll  fight.  A  good  many  fellers  has  got  hurt  goin' 
after  him.  But  what  you  goin'  to  do  ?  Let  'em  steal 
all  the  cows  they  want,  and  kill  everybody  they  feel 
like?" 

"That's  work  for  the  officers,"  insisted  Constance. 

"There  ain't  no  police  out  here,"  Curly  replied, 
"and  not  sherfs  enough  to  go  around;  so  a  feller 
sorter  has  to  go  when  he's  asked.  They  won't  let 
me,  because  I  got  twins  —  though  they  ain't  mine. 
But,  now,  I've  got  to  take  this  here  horse  over  to  Dan 
Anderson."    He  mounted  and  rode  away. 

It  was  Dan  Anderson  himself  who  presently  came 
at  a  gallop  across  the  arroyo.  A  heavy  revolver  swung 
at  his  hip,  a  rifle  rested  in  the  scabbard  under  his  leg, 
and  a  coat  was  rolled  behind  his  saddle,  plainsman 
fashion.  Constance  noted  these  details,  but  passed 
them  in  her  eagerness  and  pleasure  that  he  should 
come  at  least  to  say  good-by.  Something  of  the 
joy  faded  from  her  eyes  as  he  approached.  She  had 
seen  his  face  wear  this  same  expression  before, — 
fierce,  eager,  forgetful  of  all  but  a  purpose. 

He  did  not  smile.  He  stooped  from  his  saddle 
and  grasped  her  hand.  He  looked  squarely  into  her 
eyes,  but  said  no  word  of  salutation  or  farewell.    He 


290  HEART'S  DESIRE 

did  not  look  back,  as  upon  the  instant  he  whirled  and 
galloped  away!  For  her  there  were  to  be  yet  more 
days  of  waiting;  for  him  the  relief  of  action  and  of 
danger. 

That  afternoon  Tom  Osby  drove  into  town  from 
the  northern  trail.  Mr.  Ellsworth  welcomed  him 
and  his  rude  vehicle  as  the  first  feasible  means  of 
getting  back  to  Sky  Top.  By  noon  of  the  following 
day  they  were  well  upon  their  way,  leaving  behind 
them  problems  enough  unsolved,  and  breaking  touch 
with  pending  events  which  might  cut  short  all  problems 
for  at  least  one  loyal  heart.  It  was  a  sad  and  silent 
Constance  who  looked  back  and  said  good-by  to  the 
rambling  street  of  Heart's  Desire,  lying  in  the  sun 
empty,  empty! 

As  for  the  sheriff  of  Blanco  and  his  men,  they 
trotted  on  steadily  toward  the  northeast,  hour  after 
hour.  They  crossed  the  Patos  divide,  and  a  few 
miles  beyond  took  up  the  trail  of  their  quarry,  at  the 
point  where  Stillson  had  earlier  left  it.  This  they 
followed  rapidly,  crossing  wide  plains  of  sage  brush 
and  cactus  throughout  the  day.  They  slept  in  their 
saddle-blankets  that  night,  and  were  up  and  off  again 
by  dawn  for  the  second  day  of  steady  travel.  There 
were  seven  men  in  the  posse,  three  besides  Stillson 
from  the  Seven  Rivers  country,  employees  of  the  cow 
men  on  the  Pecos, — slim,  brown,  thin-featured  fellows, 
who  talked  little  either  in  the  saddle  or  at  the  bivouac 
fire  by  night. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  291 

The  second  night  out  they  spent  by  a  water  hole 
in  the  desert ;  and  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day 
they  ran  into  their  game,  earlier  than  they  had  ex- 
pected. The  sheriff,  riding  in  advance,  suddenly 
pulled  up  at  the  crest  of  a  low  ridge  which  they  were 
ascending,  and  came  back  motioning  to  his  men  to 
remain  under  cover. 

"That's  the  Pifios  Altos  ranch  house  just  ahead," 
he  explained,  "and  there's  smoke  coming  out  of  it. 
Old  Frazee's  friendly  enough  with  the  Kid,  and 
more'n  likely  the  bunch  has  stopped  in  there  to  get 
something  to  eat.  Hold  on  a  little  till  I  have  a  look." 
He  took  a  pair  of  field-glasses  from  his  saddle,  and 
crawling  to  the  top  of  the  ridge  lay  examining  the 
situation. 

"It's  them,  all  right,"  he  said  when  he  returned. 
"I  know  some  of  the  horses.  It's  the  Kid  and  about 
three  others.  They  are  all  saddled  up  —  probably 
stopped  in  to  cook  a  meal.  We'll  get  'em  sure.  Now, 
all  of  you  hitch  back  here,  and  crawl  around  to  the 
arroyo  below,  there.  That'll  put  us  within  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  of  the  house." 

Each  man,  dismounting,  hitched  his  horse,  then 
quietly  ran  over  the  cylinder  of  his  revolver,  blew  the 
dust  out  of  the  rear  sight  of  his  Winchester,  tested 
the  magazine,  and  cleared  the  breech  action.  This 
done,  each  crept  to  the  place  assigned  to  him.  Dan 
Anderson  found  himself  moving  mechanically,  dully, 
with  a  strange  absence  of  excitement.    He  almost 


292  HEART'S  DESIRE 

felt  himself  looker-on  at  what  other  men  were 
doing. 

For  some  time  Stillson  lay  behind  a  little  bush  at 
the  edge  of  the  gully,  peering  critically  at  the  house, 
from  which  came  nothing  to  indicate  that  their  ap- 
proach had  been  discovered.  At  length,  without  a 
word,  he  slowly  raised  his  short-barrelled  rifle  and 
fired.  One  of  the  horses  hitched  to  the  beam  above 
the  door  stumbled  forward  and  sank  across  the 
opening,  blocking  it.  The  bullet  had  caught  it  at  the 
butt  of  the  ear,  and  it  fell  stone  dead,  its  neck  bent 
up  by  the  shortened  rein. 

In  response,  without  a  word  of  parley,  a  thin  cloud 
of  smoke  gushed  out  of  the  only  window  facing  the 
attack.  Puffs  of  sand  arose  along  the  front  of  the 
arroyo,  searching  out  each  little  bush  top  which 
might  possibly  offer  cover.  Stillson  heard  a  smoth- 
ered spat  and  a  short  sound,  and  turned  his  head 
quickly.  He  saw  Jim  Harbin,  one  of  the  boys  from 
the  lower  range,  turn  over  with  a  sigh,  and  lie  with 
arms  spread  out.  He  had  been  shot  straight  through 
the  neck.  Dan  Anderson,  the  man  nearest  to  him, 
drew  him  back.  He  would  have  raised  the  head  of 
the  wounded  man,  but  the  choking  warned  him. 
Harbin  lay  out  on  his  back,  looking  up,  his  breath 
giirgling  in  his  throat.  "No  use,"  he  whispered 
thickly.  "Leave  me  alone.  I've  got  to  take  my 
medicine.7'    In  ten  minutes  he  was  dead. 

The  day's  work  went  on.    The  sheriff  fired  three 


HEART'S  DESIRE  293 

or  four  more  deliberate  shots,  but  finally  turned 
around.  At  each  shot,  the  other  horse  tied  to  the 
beam  sprang  baqk. 

"Can't  you  hit  it?"  grinned  McKinney. 

"I  don't  want  to  kill  the  horse,"  said  Stillson;  "I 
know  that  horse,  and  it's  a  good  one.  I  want  to 
turn  it  loose.  Here  you,  Anderson,  can  you  see  that 
rope  from  where  you  are?  Shoot  it  off,  if  you  can, 
close  up  to  the  beam." 

Dan  Anderson,  in  spite  of  Stillson's  hasty  warning 
to  keep  down,  rose  at  full  height  at  the  edge  of  the 
cover,  and  took  a  deliberate  off-hand  shot.  They  saw 
him  whirl  half  around,  and  look  down  at  his  left  arm ; 
but  as  he  dropped  lower,  he  rested  his  rifle  on  a  bit 
of  sage  brush,  and  fired  once  more.  With  a  snort  the 
horse,  which  had  been  pulling  back  wildly  on  its  lariat, 
now  broke  free  and  went  off,  saddled  as  it  was. 

"Good  shot!"  commented  the  sheriff.  "That'll 
about  put  'em  on  foot.    What,  did  they  get  you?" 

Dan  Anderson  drew  back  from  the  crest  and  rolled 
up  his  shirt-sleeve  above  an  arm  now  wet  with  blood. 
A  bullet  had  cut  through  the  upper  arm  above  the 
elbow. 

"Serves  you  mighty  near  right,"  called  McKinney 
to  him,  "standing  up,  like  a  blamed  fool!  You 
suppose  them  fellers  can't  shoot,  same  as  us  ?  " 

Doc  Tomlinson  crawled  over  to  him  and  examined 
the  hurt.  "It's  all  right,"  said  he.  "Bone  ain't 
touched.    Let  me  tie  her  up." 


294  HEART'S  DESIRE 

A  half  hour  passed  without  further  firing.  Stillson 
edged  around  to  the  point  nearest  the  house.  "  Here 
you,  Kid/'  he  called  out.  "Come  on  out.  We've 
got  you  on  foot,  and  you  might  as  well  give  up." 

A  dirty  rag  was  thrust  out  of  a  window  at  the  end 
of  a  rifle-barrel.  "That  you,  Ben?"  called  a  muffled 
voice  from  the  adobe. 

"You  know  it  is,  Kid.  Drop  it,  and  come  on  out. 
We've  got  you  sure." 

The  day's  work  was  over.  Dan  Anderson  remem- 
bered afterward  how  matter  of  fact  and  methodical 
it  all  had  seemed.  A  few  moments  later  a  short, 
dirty  young  man  appeared  at  the  door,  crawling  over 
the  prostrate  horse.  He  held  up  his  hands,  grinning. 
He  was  followed  by  two  others,  both  chewing  tobacco 
calmly.  The  sheriff  ordered  down  his  men  to  meet 
them.  McKinney  unbuckled  the  belts.  The  captives 
seated  themselves  a  few  feet  apart  on  the  ground. 

"This  all  the  men  you've  got?"  asked  the  Kid. 

The  sheriff  nodded.  "You've  killed  Jim  Harbin," 
he  added,  jerking  a  thumb  toward  the  arroyo. 

"Why  didn't  he  stay  home,  then?"  said  the  Kid, 
peevishly.  No  one  seemed  disposed  again  to  mention 
an  unpleasant  subject. 

"Where  you  goin'  to  take  us?"  the  Kid  inquired. 

"  Vegas.  It's  a  United  States  warrant,  and  you  go 
dead  or  alive,  either  way  you  want." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Ben.  We'll  take  the  chance 
of  stay  in'  alive  a  while." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  295 

Stillson  now  appeared  to  experience  his  first  con- 
cern in  regard  to  his  casualties.  "Doc,"  said  he, 
"you  take  the  ranch  wagon  here  and  carry  Jim  back 
to  the  settlements.  You  go  along,  Anderson.  Doc, 
you  drive.' ' 

"You  busted  up  our  breakfast,"  said  the  Kid,  in 
an  aggrieved  tone.  "Don't  we  eat?"  He  spoke 
complainingly.    The  day's  work  was  thus  concluded. 

It  was  a  long  ride  back  for  Dan  Anderson,  lying 
part  of  the  time  himself  prone  at  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon,  too  faint  to  sit  with  comfort  on  the  narrow, 
jolting  seat.  The  long,  muffled  body  of  the  dead 
man,  wrapped  tightly  in  its  blankets,  at  times  rolled 
against  him  as  the  wagon  tilted,  and  he  pushed  it 
back  gently.  The  day's  work  had  been  savage, 
stern,  and  simple.  The  lesson  of  the  landscape,  the 
lesson  of  life,  came  to  him  as  he  had  never  felt  it 
before.  He  saw  now  how  little  a  thing  is  life,  how 
easy  to  lay  down  —  gayly,  bitterly,  lightly,  or  quietly 
perhaps ;  but  not  cheaply.  He  remembered  the  last 
words  of  the  boy  who  now  lay  there,  shrouded  and 
silent,  —  "  I've  got  to  take  my  medicine. " 

"It's  not  a  question  of  being  happy,"  thought  Dar 
Anderson,  "but  of  doing  your  work,  and  taking  your 
medicine." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ADVENTURE  AT  HEART'S   DESIRE 

The  Strange  Story  of  the  King   of  Gee- Whiz,   and  his 
Unusual  Experience  in  Foreign  Parts 

In  the  absence  of  McKinney  with  the  sheriff's 
posse,  Curly  became,  by  virtue  of  seniority,  acting 
foreman  on  the  Carrizoso  ranch.  Grieving  over  the 
edict  which  held  him  home  from  sheriffing,  and  dis- 
consolate now  that  Ellsworth  and  Constance  had 
departed,  he  sought  an  outlet  for  his  feelings.  "I'll 
show  folks  what  a  real  cow  foreman  is  like,"  he 
asserted,  and  forthwith  began  plans  which,  in  his 
opinion,  had  been  too  long  deferred  by  the  more 
conservative  McKinney. 

The  wagons  of  the  Carrizoso  cow  outfit  came  into 
town  one  morning,  with  a  requisition  for  all  the  loose 
.44-caliber  ammunition  that  could  be  bought,  begged, 
or  commandeered  under  the  plea  of  urgent  necessity. 
Whiteman  burrowed  through  his  stock  from  top  to 
bottom,  but  still  the  new  foreman  growled  at  the 
insufficiency. 

"  There's  more'n  five  thousand  sheep  in  that  bunch 
that  has  just  crossed  the  Nogales,"  said  he,  "and 
we've  got  to  kill  'em,  every  one.  Do  you  suppose 
my  men  is  goin'  to  take  to  clubs,  like  Digger  Injuns?" 

296 


HEART'S  DESIRE  297 

Whiteman  could  only  shrug.  There  had  always 
been  ammunition  in  Heart's  Desire  sufficient  for  all 
benevolent  and  social  purposes.  No  one  had  sus- 
pected sheep.  The  Carrizoso  plateau  had  been  sacred 
ground,  and  it  was  unsupposable  that  it  could  ever  be 
desecrated  by  the  trampling  hoofs  and  scissor  noses 
of  these  woolly  abominations.  Grumbling,  Curly  rode 
away  with  his  wagons,  surrounded  by  a  group  of 
be-Winchestered  cow  punchers,  not  unlike  that  which 
had  accompanied  Stillson  out  at  the  other  end  of 
the  town. 

It  was  two  days  before  they  returned.  When  they 
did  so,  two  of  the  men  were  not  in  their  saddles,  but 
at  the  bottom  of  a  wagon.  Beside  them,  bucked  up 
and  bound,  lay  a  strange  and  long-haired  figure,  at 
which  the  new  foreman  occasionally  looked  back 
with  a  gaze  of  mingled  curiosity  and  respect. 

It  appeared  that  Carrizoso  cow  honor  had  been 
maintained.  The  five  thousand  sheep  had  been 
rounded  up  in  a  box  canon,  and  scrupulously  killed 
to  the  last  item,  while  two  herders  went  flying  west- 
ward in  fright  such  as  might  have  warranted  euchre 
upon  their  stiffly  extended  coat-tails. 

Willie,  the  half-wit,  one  of  the  sheep  outfit,  had  read- 
ily taken  the  oath  of  allegiance;  beyond  that,  how- 
ever, there  had  been  a  hitch  in  the  proceedings. 
The  man  causing  this  hitch  —  the  long-haired  figure 
at  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  —  had  been  presump- 
tuous enough  to  make  a  stand  against  the  lords  of 


298  HEART'S  DESIRE 

the  earth!  The  men  of  Heart's  Desire,  confident 
that  the  new  foreman  understood  his  business,  asked 
few  questions  as  they  gathered  about  the  wagon  and 
gazed  at  the  silent  captive. 

He  was  a  singular-looking  man,  tall,  lean,  sinewy, 
with  a  high,  thin  nose  and  a  square  chin  which  seemed 
not  in  keeping  with  his  calling.  His  left  nostril  was 
indented  by  a  scar  which  ran  across  his  cheek,  and 
one  ear  was  notched  well-nigh  as  deeply  as  that  of  a 
calf  at  a  spring  branding. 

"This  feller,"  said  Uncle  Jim  Brothers,  " looks  like 
he  come  from  Arkansaw." 

"Maj'be  so,"  answered  Curly.  "Anyhow,  he 
shot  up  two  of  the  boys  and  killed  a  horse  for  us 
before  we  got  at  him.  We  was  out  of  ammunition  — 
I  told  you  we  didn't  have  enough.  After  we  killed 
the  woollies,  and  run  off  them  two  herders,  we  rid  up 
the  canon.  There  was  him,  a-settin'  in  the  door 
of  his  ole  Kentucky  home,  with  a  Winchester  that'd 
go  off  —  which  it  stands  to  reason  couldn't  have 
happened  if  he  was  a  real  sheepherder.  I  can't 
figure  that  out."  Curly  scratched  his  head  dubiously, 
and  looked  again  at  his  prisoner. 

"He  ain't  saying  a  vort  alretty,"  said  Whiteman. 

"He's  happy  enough  without.  He  was  livin' 
like  a  lord  there,  in  his  shack  —  four  hundred  paper- 
back novels,  a  keg  of  whiskey  and  a  tin  cup,  and  some 
kind  of  'hop'  that  we  brung  along,  and  which  was  the 
only  thing  he  hollered  over." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  299 

The  prisoner  sat  up  in  the  wagon.  "If  you'd  be 
so  good  as  to  give  me  the  packet  you've  in  your 
pocket,"  said  he  to  Curly,  "I'd  be  awfully  obliged 
to  you,  old  fellow,  I  would  indeed."  Curly  drew  a 
paper  package  from  his  pocket  and  passed  it  to  the 
speaker,  who  opened  it  with  eager  fingers. 

" Thanks,  my  good  man,"  he  remarked,  "thank 
you  awfully."  They  led  him  into  the  deserted  Lone 
Star  for  further  deliberations. 

"That's  the  snuff  he's  been  takin',"  Curly  ex- 
plained aside.  "I  know.  It's  ' hop.'  Sheep,  ' hop,' 
and  whiskey!  With  that  for  a  life  and  them  for  a 
steady  diet,  I  don't  believe  our  friend  here'd  last 
more'n  about  thirty  years  more."  He  turned  to  the 
captive,  who  by  this  time  was  leaning  back  against 
the  wall  in  his  chair,  the  central  figure  of  present 
affairs,  but  apparently  quite  unconcerned. 

"How  you  feelin'  now?"  Curly  asked. 

"Much  better,"  replied  the  prisoner.  "Thank  you 
awfully.  I  was  beginning  to  feel  deucedly  seedy, 
you  know." 

"I'd  like  to  know,"  inquired  Curly,  bluntly,  "what 
in  merry-hell  you're  doing  down  in  here,  anyhow 
Where'd  you  come  from?     Where've   you  been?" 

A  half -humorous  smile  came  to  the  face  of  the  cap- 
tive. "  You  seem  not  to  know  a  Sandhurst  man, 
gentlemen,  when  you  see  one,"  said  he. 

"I  said  he  was  from  Arkansaw,"  remarked  Uncle 
Jim. 


300  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"No  foolin'  now,  young  feller,"  said  Curly,  frown- 
ing. "You  may  have  more  trouble  than  you're 
lookin'  for.    What's  your  name?" 

"I  really  forget  my  first  name,"  replied  the  prisoner, 
blandly,  but  not  discourteously.  "Of  late  I  have 
been  customarily  addressed  as  the  King  of  Gee- 
Whiz." 

"Well,  King,"  suggested  the  acting  foreman,  grimly, 
"you'd  better  turn  loose  and  tell  us  your  story,  about 
as  soon  as  you  know  how." 

"Very  gladly,"  responded  the  other,  "very  gladly. 
You  seem  a  good  sort,  and  you  fought  fair.  I'll  tell 
you  the  absolute  truth. 

"I  came  from  England  originally,  and  not  from 
Arkansaw,  as  my  friend  supposes,  although  I  don't 
know  where  Arkansaw  is,  I'm  sure.  I  was  long  in  the 
British  Army,  or  Navy,  I  cawn't  remember  which. 
I'm  quite  sure  it  was  one  or  the  other,  possibly  both." 

"I  wouldn't  kid  too  much,  friend,"  said  Curly, 
warningly. 

"I  beg  pardon?" 

"Drop  the  foolishness!" 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  King 
of  Gee- Whiz.  "At  that  time  it  was  quite  customary, 
indeed  very  fashionable,  for  young  gentlemen  to 
belong  both  to  the  Army  and  the  Navy.  Now,  I 
remember  with  perfect  distinctness  that  I  shipped 
before  the  mast  on  her  Majesty's  submarine,  the 
Equator." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  301 

Uncle  Jim  drew  a  long  breath.  "A  submarine 
ain't  got  no  mast,"  said  he.  "It  crawls,  on  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean." 

"Don't  mind  him,  friend,"  interrupted  Curly. 
"  He  come  from  the  short-grass  country  of  Kansas,  and 
he  don't  know  a  submarine  from  a  muley  cow.  Go 
on,  King." 

"As  I  was  saying,"  continued  the  latter,  some- 
what annoyed,  "I  shipped  before  the  mast  on  her 
Majesty's  submarine,  the  Equator,  Captain  Harry 
Oglethorpe  commanding, —  a  great  friend  of  mine, 
and  a  very  brave  and  clever  fellow.  I  knew  him 
well  before  I  got  so  deucedly  down  on  my  luck.  But 
what  was  I  saying?" 

"About  submarines  —  " 

"Ah,  yes,  I  remember;  we  left  Portsmouth  Harbor 
the  12th  of  August,  1357.  It  seemed  a  gruelling 
hard  thing  to  us  to  sail  just  on  the  opening  of  the 
shooting  season,  but  the  wuzzies  were  troubling  a  bit. 

"One  day,  as  Sir  Harry  and  I  were  sitting  on  deck 
before  the  mast,  having  a  cigarette  —  " 

"At  the  bottom  of  the  sea  —  on  deck!"  gasped 
Uncle  Jim  Brothers. 

"Pray  don't  interrupt  me,  or  I'll  never  get  on," 
chided  the  King  of  Gee-Whiz,  politely.  "We  were 
smoking,  as  I  said,  awfter  dinner.  I  was  remarking 
to  Sir  Harry  that  we  were  having  a  very  good  voyage 
over,  when,  as  he  turned  to  reply,  an  orderly  rode 
up  to  us  and  saluted." 


302  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Rode  —  rode — rode  up!"  murmured  Curly. 
"How  could  he?" 

"Let  him  alone/'  said  Uncle  Jim.  "Didn't  he  say 
he  couldn't  remember  whether  he  was  in  the  Army 
or  the  Navy?    The  horse  goes." 

"The  orderly  saluted,"  resumed  the  King  of  Gee- 
Whiz,  "and  said  he,  'I  beg  pardon,  but  the  officer  of 
the  day  presents  his  compliments,  and  begs  to  report 
that  the  ship's  a-fire,  and  upon  the  point  of  exploding.' 

"Sir  Harry  looked  at  his  watch.  ' Thanks,'  said  he. 
'  Present  my  compliments  to  the  officer  of  the  day, 
and  ask  how  long  it  will  be  before  the  explosion 
occurs.' 

"'I  beg  pardon,'  replied  the  orderly,  'but  the 
officer  of  the  day  presents  his  compliments,  and  begs 
to  say  that  the  explosion  will  occur  in  about  three 
minutes.' 

"'Very  well,'  said  Sir  Harry,  'you  may  go.' — 'That 
will  give  us  time  to  finish  our  cigarettes,'  said  he  to 
me.  The  orderly  saluted  and  rode  away.  We  never 
saw  him  again. 

"The  officer  of  the  day  was  a  very  accurate  man, 
very  accurate  indeed.  In  three  minutes  to  the  dot 
the  explosion  did  occur.  We  never  knew  what 
caused  it.  No  doubt  the  Admiralty  Board  deter- 
mined that,  but  we  were  not  present  at  the  session. 

"The  explosion  was  most  violent,  and  no  doubt 
the  submarine  was  quite  destroyed  by  it.  Sir  Harry 
and  I  were  blown  to  an  extraordinary  distance  from 


HEART'S  DESIRE  303 

the  spot.  I  remember  saying  to  him,  as  we  reached 
the  surface  and  started  upward,  that  it  seemed  quite 
too  bad  that  we'd  not  had  time  to  get  together  our 
personal  kit  for  the  journey. 

"It's  no  use  my  mentioning  how  long  we  travelled 
thus,  for  I'm  not  in  the  least  clear  about  it  myself. 
All  I  can  say  is  that  in  course  of  time  we  descended, 
and  that  we  found  ourselves  on  solid  ground,  on  the 
island  of  Gee- Whiz.  That,  you  will  understand, 
was  an  uncharted  and  hitherto  undiscovered  land, 
lying  near  the  400th  parallel  west  of  London  and 
somewhere  below  Sumatra  —  several  weeks'  march 
from  Calcutta,  I  should  say.  We'd  never  seen  the 
place  nor  heard  of  it,  but  were  jolly  well  pleased  to 
alight  upon  it,  under  the  circumstances.  Of  the  rest 
of  the  ship's  company  we  never  heard. 

"It  was  a  baddish  fix,  I  must  say,  for  to  be 
marooned  on  a  desert  island  is  serious;  and  it's  still 
more  serious  to  lose  one's  ship  in  the  British  Army. 
Presently,  however,  we  composed  ourselves.  'I  say,' 
said  Sir  Harry, '  this  is  a  great  go,  isn't  it  ?  Here  I  am 
with  no  luggage  whatever  except  one  bar  of  soap ! ' 

"Presently  I  saw  approaching  a  band  of  natives 
headed  by  a  large  person,  who  was  apparently  their 
leader  or  king." 

"Then  that  was  the  real  King  of  Gee-Whiz  ?"  asked 
Doc  Tomlinson. 

"At  that  time,  but  not  permanently,  as  I  shall 
presently  show  you." 


304  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"  I  explained  the  situation  to  the  King,  who  turned 
out  to  be  a  very  good  sort.  'God  bless  my  soul ! '  said 
he.  '  My  dear  sir,  there's  not  the  slightest  occasion  for 
uneasiness,  there  really  isn't,  indeed.' 

"You  may  fawncy  the  situation!  As  it  was,  Sir 
Harry  and  I  were  obliged  to  make  the  best  of  it. 
We  concluded  to  remain  and  to  take  possession  of  the 
region  in  the  name  of  her  Britannic  Majesty." 

"That's  the  most  natural  part  of  your  story!" 
affirmed  Uncle  Jim,  with  conviction. 

"Thank  you.  But  I  must  tell  you  of  the  complica- 
tions which  now  arose.  You  will  see  that  all  these 
people  were  sun-worshippers,  or  something  of  the 
sort,  and  they'd  a  beastly  unpleasant  habit,  you 
know,  of  offering  up  a  sacrifice  now  and  again  to 
appease  the  spirits,  or  the  like.  We  learned  they'd 
a  valley  of  gold  hidden  away  somewhere  back  in  the 
island,  and  from  this  the  King  got  all  his  gold,  though 
even  under  these  circumstances  not  so  much  as  he 
wanted  at  all  times.  He'd  the  trouble  of  most  royal 
families. 

u  The  ruler  of  this  golden  valley  was  some  sort  of  a 
princess,  and  she  was  downright  niggardly  with  her 
money,  as  some  of  these  heiresses  are,  you  know. 
She'd  promise  the  King  to  bring  him  an  apronful  of 
gold  if  he'd  give  her  a  sacrifice  to  offer  up,  but  he  had 
no  way  of  providing  an  offering.  No  one  had  come 
for  years  in  the  line  of  a  sacrifice,  excepting  ourselves. 
You  can  imagine  the  awkwardness  this  created.    The 


HEART'S  DESIRE  305 

King  wanted  to  sacrifice  us,  one  or  both,  directly. 
The  princess,  who  by  the  by  was  a  regular  ripper 
in  her  way,  was  quite  gone  on  Sir  Harry,  and  he  on 
her  as  well.  At  this  point  my  own  personal  fortunes 
were  much  involved,  as  you  may  understand. 

"Sir  Harry  explained  that  while  he  wished  to  be 
quite  the  gentleman  about  it,  and  accord  me  every 
courtesy,  he'd  be  obliged  if  I'd  be  the  sacrifice,  and 
leave  him  to  represent  her  Majesty  in  the  new  terri- 
tory. We  talked  it  over  a  bit,  but  came  to  no  con- 
clusion about  the  matter.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  portions  of  our  experience 
occurred. 

"One  morning  Sir  Harry  and  I  were  standing  in 
front  of  our  residence,  in  our  part  of  the  island,  talking 
over  matters.  Sir  Harry  was  taking  a  bawth  in  a 
wash-hand  basin  —  " 

"What's  that?"  asked  Uncle  Jim. 

"I  reckon  he  means  a  wash-pan,"  explained  Billy 
Hudgens. 

"At  least,  Sir  Harry  was  making  a  deuce  of  a  row 
with  the  soap,  and  he'd  the  wash-hand  basin  quite 
full  of  bubbles.  Just  then  the  King  of  Gee-Wfrz 
came  by,  and  chawnced  to  notice  the  bubbles.  You 
should  have  seen  his  expression! 

"You  must  remember  he'd  never  seen  a  bit  of  soap 
in  all  his  life ;  and  no  one  who  has  been  without  it  — 
like  the  King  and  myself  —  can  tell  what  that  means. 
He  was  deucedly  infatuated  with  the  bubbles.    In 


306  HEART'S  DESIRE 

short,  he  valued  them  at  once  far  more  than  all  the 
gold  in  the  valley;  and  he  wound  up  by  telling  us 
flat,  that  so  long  as  we  could  make  bubbles  for  him, 
there  would  be  no  sacrifice.  He  commanded  us  to 
appear  before  him  every  day  and  make  these  bubbles 

—  Sir  Harry  showed  him  how  to  do  it  with  his  pipe 

—  every  morning  and  awf ternoon. 

"Awfter  he'd  gone,  Sir  Harry  and  I  looked  at  each 
other.  'It's  death  or  bubbles,'  said  he  to  me.  I 
pointed  out  to  him  that  it  was  either  death  or  no 
bawth.  He  was  much  shocked.  Evidently  the  thing 
could  not  go  on,  for  our  soap  was  already  very  near 
exhausted.  Sir  Harry  was  a  sad  dog.  Said  he  to 
me,  '  While  there  is  soap  there  is  life,'  meaning  to 
say,  you  see,  that  while  there  was  life  there  was 
hope.    Ha,  ha!" 

" Leave  that  out,"  admonished  Curly.     "Go  on." 

"About  now  there  went  ashore  on  the  island  the 
private  yacht  of  a  gentleman  whom  we  found  to  be 
Sir  Isaac  Morgenstern.  He  was  a  retired  soap-maker, 
of  wealth  and  station,  and  was  on  a  voyage  to  Samoa 
with  his  daughter,  his  household  servants,  and  the 
like.  He'd  with  him,  as  chaplain,  a  missionary, 
William  Cook,  a  person  of  very  fat  habit  of  body. 

u  When  the  boat  went  ashore,  Sir  Isaac,  his  daughter, 
Lady  Sophie,  her  maid,  a  Miss  Eckerstrom,  Mr. 
Cook,  and  one  or  two  others  were  saved,  together 
with  certain  of  their  effects  —  an  auto  car  or  so,  a 
piano,  a  harp,  some  books,  pictures,  and  a  number 


HEART'S  DESIRE  307 

of  other  items  which  made  our  life  much  pleasanter. 
We  all  settled  down  together  in  a  bit  of  colony, 
and  we  got  on  well  enough. 

"The  King  by  this  time  was  becoming  most  un- 
pleasant again  about  his  sacrifice.  Sir  Harry  was 
a  sad  dog.  'Sacrifice  Morgenstern/  suggested  he, 
'he's  used  to  sacrifice.'  You  see,  in  the  retail  busi- 
ness —  " 

"Never  mind  dot,"  said  Whiteman.  "Tell  vot 
happenet ! " 

"A  great  many  things  happened.  For  one  thing, 
the  death  of  Sir  Isaac." 

"How  come  that?"  asked  Billy  Hudgens. 

"One  day  Sir  Harry  met  Sir  Isaac  in  the  woods, 
and  they'd  a  bit  of  talk.  Without  thinking  much 
about  it,  Sir  Harry  explained  that  he  was  called  on 
to  blow  soap  bubbles  for  the  King,  and  that  he  was 
in  great  need  of  soap,  which  at  that  time  was  worth 
far  more  than  gold." 

"Unt  Morgenstern  a  retiret  soap-mager!"  ex- 
claimed Whiteman,  involuntarily. 

"Now  that  was  shore  hard  luck  for  /lira,"  added 
Uncle  Jim. 

"You  may  quite  believe  so,"  said  the  teller  of  the 
story,  gently.  "And  the  saddest  part  of  it,  he'd 
nearly  solved  our  problem  before  he  left  us.  At  once 
Sir  Harry  began  talking  of  soap,  Sir  Isaac  began  won- 
dering how  he  could  make  soap.  Ere  long  he  thought 
of  Mr.  Cook,  the  missionary.  '  Soap  making  is  simple/ 


308  HEART'S  DESIRE 

said  he,  'if  one  has  fat  and  a  bit  of  alkali.'  The  water 
there  was  most  alkaline,  I  may  add.  'Now  there 
is  Mr.  Cook?' 

"'You  cawn't  have  the  missionary/  interrupted 
Sir  Harry,  'until  after  he  has  married  me  and  the 
princess.     Then  I  don't  mind.' 

"I've  every  reason  to  believe  that  Mr.  Cook  was 
made  over  into  soap.  But  for  once  Sir  Isaac  was 
wrong.  He  oversold  the  market,  and  that  was  his 
mistake.  As  soon  as  the  King  of  Gee- Whiz  found 
that  there  was  abundance  of  soap  he  lost  his  fawncy 
for  bubbles.  The  shock  of  this  lost  opportunity 
prostrated  Sir  Isaac,  and  he  presently  passed  away. 
We  mourned  him  for  a  time,  but  presently  other 
events  occurred  which  deadened  the  loss. 

"You  will  understand  that  the  King  of  Gee- 
Whiz  was  a  deucedly  good  sort.  He'd  take  a  nip 
now  and  again,  of  course.  The  only  thing  he  had  to 
drink  was  palm  wine,  which  he  got  by  chopping  a 
notch  in  a  tree  and  catching  the  juice  in  a  cup." 

"That  sounds  like  wood  alcohol,"  said  Billy  Hudg- 
ens,  in  a  professional  tone  of  voice.     "  It  ain't  safe." 

"Quite  right.  It  wasn't  safe.  The  palm  wine 
itself  caused  the  King  to  cut  a  pretty  caper  now  and 
then ;  but  awf ter  his  mistake,  he  was  far  worse  —  far, 
far  worse.    He  never  got  over  that,  never." 

"What  happened  to  him?" 

"A  most  extraordinary  thing.  I  never  knew  of 
anything  like  it  in  all  the  world. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  309 

"You  see,  there  were  two  trees  which  grew  close 
together  near  the  royal  palace.  One  of  these  was  his 
Majesty's  private  drinking  tree.  The  other,  as  it 
chawnced,  was  a  rubber  tree." 

Curly  deliberately  removed  his  hat  and  placed  it 
on  his  knee,  wiping,  as  he  did  so,  a  brow  dotted  thick 
with  moisture.    No  one  broke  the  silence. 

"You  will  easily  understand,"  resumed  the  speaker, 
"  that  when  the  King  of  Gee- Whiz  had  chopped  into 
the  rubber  tree  with  his  little  gold  axe,  drinking 
awfterwards  a  cupful  of  pure  caoutchouc,  it  did  not 
take  him  long  to  repent  of  his  inadvertence.  The 
results  were  what  I  may  call  most  extraordinary.  I 
should  judge  the  rubber  juice  to  have  been  of  very 
high  proof  indeed. 

"To  be  brief,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  the 
King  was  turned  into  an  absolutely  elastic  person  on 
the  spot!  When  he  stamped  his  foot  he  bounded 
into  the  air.  'He's  a  regular  bounder,  anyway/ 
said  Sir  Harry,  who  would  always  have  his  joke. 
'And,'  said  he  to  me,  as  I  remember  distinctly,  'if 
his  conscience  becomes  elastic,  we're  gone,  the  same 
as  Cook  and  Morgenstern.'  Sir  Harry  was  a  great 
wit. 

"  Now,  the  more  furious  the  King  became,  the  more 
helpless  he  became  as  well.  He  simply  bounced  up 
and  down  and  around  and  about.  Reigning  mon- 
arch, too  —  lack  of  dignity  —  all  that  sort  of  thing 
—  must  have  been  most  annoying  to  him.    We  could 


310  HEART'S  DESIRE 

do  nothing  to  calm  him.  In  all  my  travels,  I  have 
never  seen  such  a  state  of  affairs;  I  haven't,  really." 

"Nor  me  neither,"  said  Billy  Hudgens,  sighing, 
"and  I've  kept  bar  from  Butte  to  El  Paso." 

"Then  what  happened?"  demanded  Curly. 

"Everything  that  could  happen,"  said  the  other, 
bitterly.  "Lady  Sophie  and  her  maid,  Sir  Harry  and 
the  princess  —  the  entire  household  suite  of  the  King 
of  Gee- Whiz  —  were  mad  enough  to  taste  also  of  the 
juice  of  this  rubber  tree.  It  had  the  same  effect  upon 
them !  I  say  to  you,  positively  and  truthfully,  that 
then  and  there  the  island  of  Gee- Whiz  was  inhabited 
by  the  maddest  population  ever  known  in  any  pos- 
session of  her  Britannic  Majesty." 

"Reckon  they  was  a  pretty  lively  bunch  to  hold," 
suggested  Curly;  "but  what  happened  next?" 

"  I  am  not  quite  clear  as  to  all  that  transpired  awf  ter 
that.  I  know  that  I  was  the  only  sane  man  left  on 
the  island." 

"Then,"  remarked  Curly,  with  conviction,  taking  a 
huge  chew  off  his  plug,  "then  that  must  shore  have 
been  one  hell  of  a  island !" 

But  the  narrator  went  on  unmoved:  "I  reproved 
the  others,  and  they  resented  it.  There  was  a  great 
battle  with  the  natives  one  day,  of  which  I  remember 
but  little.  I  seem  to  have  been  left  insensible  on 
the  field.  When  I  recovered,  I  saw  dawncing  off 
across  the  sea  the  figures  of  all  these  different  persons 
except  Sir  Harry  —  who,  of  course,  was  with  me  in 


HEART'S  DESIRE  311 

the  battle.  Sir  Harry  was  still  with  me,  quite  sober 
at  lawst,  and  quite  dead,  I  do  not  know  from  what 
cause.    I  was  left  alone. 

"  It  was  thus,  gentlemen,  that  I  acquired,  by  right, 
as  I  think,  my  title  which  I  assumed — awfter  acting 
for  a  time  as  Viceroy  for  her  Britannic  Majesty  — 
as  the  King  of  Gee- Whiz.  For  a  while  I  lived  there 
alone.  Awfter  wards,  in  some  way,  which  I  do  not 
quite  call  to  mind  at  present,  I  appear  to  have  been 
discovered.  It  was  shortly  awfter  that  I  received  my 
decoration  —  I  beg  your  pardon.''  He  flushed  a  dull 
red.  "It  was  nothing,  of  course,"  said  he.  "As  to 
saving  Sir  Harry,  it  was  only  what  any  other  fellow 
would  have  done  in  the  Army  or  the  Navy  —  I  don't 
remember  which. 

"So,  gentlemen,  I've  told  you  my  story  as  a  gen- 
tleman should.  I've  been  deucedly  down  on  my 
luck  ever  since  then,  and  I  cawn't  tell  you,  really  I 
cawn't,  how  I  happened  to  be  here  and  in  this  business 
as  you  found  me.  There's  many  a  younger  son,  in 
the  Army  or  the  Navy,  who  knocks  about  and  gets 
a  bit  to  the  bad.  I  hope  you'll  not  lay  it  up  against 
me,  I  do  indeed!"  His  head  dropped  forward  on 
his  chest.  "I  was  stone  broke,"  he  whispered,  "and 
I'd  not  a  friend  on  earth." 

"And  so  you  drifted  here,"  said  Curly.  "  Well,  it's 
about  the  right  place.    Heart's  Desire's  wide  open." 

"It  wasn't  so  bad,"  resumed  the  stranger,  wearily, 
passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead;  "it  wasn't  so 


312  HEART'S  DESIRE 

bad  down  here  for  a  time.  I  didn't  mind  it,  being 
alone,  that  sort  of  thing,  for  you  see  I  was  alone  on 
the  island  for  so  long.  But  the  trouble  was  that  I 
was  followed  all  the  time  —  have  been  for  more  than 
a  year  now  —  by  that  cursed  King  —  that  damned 
fiend  that  I  thought  I'd  left  long  ago!  I'd  go  out 
into  the  sunshine,  and  there  he'd  be,  walking,  and 
bounding,  and  jumping  along,  anyway  I'd  look !  He'd 
follow  me  like  a  —  look !  look !  there  he  is  now.   See ! " 

He  raised  a  trembling  finger  and  pointed  to  a  spot 
in  front  of  the  open  door.  A  black  shadow  was  cast 
upon  the  floor  by  the  strong  sunlight  which  shone 
upon  the  figure  of  a  leaning  spectator. 

"Look!"  cried  the  King  of  Gee-Whiz.  "He's 
there!  He's  there!"  He  slipped  and  sank  to  the 
floor,  rolling  over  into  an  utter  insensibility.  Curly 
put  on  his  hat  and  stood  looking  down  at  him. 

"Sand,  sunshine,  and  sheep  herdin',"  said  he,  "will 
do  up  any  man  in  time.  I'd  'a'  made  a  good  cow 
puncher  out  of  this  fellow,  too,  if  I'd  got  him  in  time. 
By  Golly !  I'll  do  it  anyhow.  I'll  have  Mac  get  him 
a  horse  and  saddle  and  put  him  to  work.  Any  feller 
that  kin  shoot  and  lie  as  good  as  him  has  got  the 
makin'  of  a  good  cow  puncher  in  him." 

They  turned  over  the  King  of  Gee- Whiz  gently, 
that  he  might  rest  more  easily  where  he  lay.  His 
coat  and  waistcoat  fell  open.  Underneath  them,  upon 
the  left  side  of  his  chest,  appeared  a  small,  dull- 
colored  cross  of  metal. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  313 

"For  Valor  ";  Curly  read  the  inscription  with  diffi- 
culty. "I  knowed  it;  I  knowed  he'd  been  a  cow 
puncher  sometime,  and  just  went  wrong." 

"Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Jim  Brothers, 
"that's  the  Victoria  Cross!  This  here's  a  V.  C. 
man!" 

"I  don't  know  that  brand.  It  ain't  registered  for 
this  range,"  said  Curly. 

"Well,"  said  Billy  Hudgens,  philosophically  gazing 
at  the  sleeper,  "I  reckon  'D.  T.'  would  be  easier  to 
understand,  all  things  considered." 

"If  he  ever  comes  to,"  said  Curly,  as  he  cast  away 
through  the  open  door  the  contents  of  the  pockets  of 
the  King  of  Gee- Whiz,  "  we'll  try  to  get  him  through 
the  D.  T.  stage  as  well  as  the  V.  C,  whatever  that  is, 
and  I  reckon  he's  good  for  a  job  on  the  Carrizoso  range. 
This  country  can't  afford  to  be  too  damned  particu- 
lar about  a  feller's  past." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PHILOSOPHY  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Showing  further  the  Uncertainty  of  Human  Events,  and 
the  Exceeding  Resourcefulness  of  Mr.  Tliomas  Osby 

Tom  Osby's  freight  wagon  made  not  so  bad  a  con- 
veyance after  all.  The  first  fifty  miles  of  the  journey 
were  passed  in  comparative  silence,  Constance  and 
her  father  for  the  most  part  keeping  to  the  shelter  of 
the  wagon  tilt.  Tom  Osby  grew  restless  under  soli- 
tude ere  long,  and  made  friendly  advances. 

"You  come  up  here  and  set  by  me  on  the  seat/' 
said  he  to  Constance,  "and  let  the  sun  shine  on  you. 
The  old  man  can  stay  back  there  on  the  blankets  with 
my  kerosene  can  of  whiskey  if  he  still  thinks  his 
health  ain't  good.  Like  enough  he'll  learn  to  get  the 
potato  off'n  the  snoot  of  the  can  before  long. 

"You  see,"  he  went  on,  "I  don't  make  no  extry 
charge  for  whiskey  or  conversation  to  my  patients. 
Far's  I  know,  I'm  the  only  railroad  that  don't.  I 
got  a  box  of  aigs  back  there  in  the  wagon,  too.  Ever 
see  ary  railroad  back  in  the  States  that  throwed  in 
ham  and  aigs?    I  reckon  not." 

"Twenty  dollars  extra!"  remarked  Ellsworth. 
"You've  made  the  girl  laugh." 

314 


HEART'S  DESIRE  315 

"Man,  hush!"  said  Tom  Osby.  "Go  on  to  sleep, 
and  don't  offer  me  money,  or  I'll  make  you  get  out 
and  walk."  This  with  a  twinkle  which  robbed  his 
threat  of  terror,  though  Ellsworth  took  the  advice 
presently  and  lay  down  under  the  wagon  cover. 

"Don't  mind  him,  Miss  Constance,"  apologized 
Tom  Osby.  "He's  only  your  father,  anyhow,  if  it 
comes  to  the  worst.  But  now  tell  me,  what  ails 
you?  Say,  now,  you  ain't  sick,  are  you?"  He 
caught  the  plaintive  droop  of  the  girl's  mouth;  but, 
receiving  no  answer,  he  himself  evaded  the  question, 
and  began  to  point  out  antelope  and  wolves,  difficult 
for  the  uneducated  eye  to  distinguish  upon  the  gray 
plains  that  now  swept  about  them.  It  was  an  hour 
before  he  returned  to  the  subject  really  upon  his 
mind. 

"  I  was  hear  in'  a  little  about  Ben  Stillson,  the  sherf , 
goin'  out  with  a  feller  or  so  of  ours  after  a  boy  that's 
broke  jail  down  below,"  he  began  tentatively.  "You 
folks  hustled  me  out  of  town  so  soon,  I  didn't  have 
more'n  half  time  enough  to  git  the  news."  From  the 
corner  of  his  eye  he  watched  the  face  of  his  passenger. 

"A  great  way  to  do,  wasn't  it!"  exclaimed  Con- 
stance, in  sudden  indignation.  "  I  asked  them  why 
they  didn't  hire  men  to  do  such  work." 

"Ma'am,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "I  used  to  think  you 
had  some  sense.    You  ain't." 

"Why?" 

"You  can't  think  of  no  way  but  States  ways,  can 


316  HEART'S  DESIRE 

you?  I  s'pose  you  think  the  police  ought  to  catch 
a  bad  man,  don't  you?" 

"Well,  it's  officer's  work,  going  after  a  dangerous 
man.    Wasn't  this  man  dangerous?" 

He  noted  her  eagerness,  and  hastened  to  qualify. 
"Him?  The  Kid?  No,  I  don't  mean  him.  He's 
plumb  gentle.  I  mean  a  real  bad  man  —  if  there 
was  any  out  here,  you  know.  Now,  not  havin'  any 
police,  out  here,  the  feJiers  that  believes  in  law  and 
order,  why,  onct  in  a  while,  they  kind  of  help  go  after 
the  fellers  that  don't.  It  works  out  all  right.  Now 
I  don't  seem  to  just  remember  which  ones  it  was  of 
our  fellers  that  Stillson  took  with  him  the  other  day, 
along  of  your  hurrying  me  out  of  town  so  soon  after 
I  got  in." 

"It  was  Mr.  Tomlinson,  and  Mr.  McKinney  from 
the  ranch,  you  know;  and  Curly  wanted  to  go,  but 
they  wouldn't  let  him." 

"Why  wouldn't  they?" 

"Because  he  was  a  married  man,  they  said.  And 
yet  you  say  this  criminal  is  not  dangerous?" 

"He'd  ought  to  been  glad  to  go,  him  a  married  man. 
I've  been  married  a  good  deal  myself.  But  was  them 
two  the  only  ones  that  went?" 

"They  two  —  and  Mr.  Anderson." 

Tom  smoked  on  quietly.  "Well,  I  don't  see  why 
they'd  take  a  tenderfoot  like  him,"  he  remarked  at 
length,  "while  there  was  men  like  Curly  standin' 
around." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  317 

"I  thought  you  were  his  friend!"  blazed  the  girl, 
her  cheeks  reddening. 

Tom  Osby  grinned  at  the  success  of  his  subterfuge. 
"If  he  wasn't  a  good  man,  Ben  Stillson  wouldn't 
'a'  took  him  along,"  admitted  he. 

"Then  it  is  dangerous?" 

"Ma'am,"  said  Tom  Osby,  tapping  his  pipe  against 
the  side  of  the  wagon  seat,  "they're  about  even,  a 
half  dozen  good  ones  against  about  that  many  bad 
ones.  They're  game  on  both  sides,  and  got  to  be. 
And  we  all  know  well  enough  that  Dan  Anderson's 
game  as  the  next  one.  The  boys  figured  that  out 
the  other  night.  Why,  he'll  come  back  all  right  in  a 
few  days;  don't  worry  none  about  that"  He  looked 
straight  ahead  of  him,  pretending  not  to  notice  the 
little  gloved  hand  that  stole  toward  his  sleeve.  In 
her  own  way,  Constance  had  discovered  that  she 
might  depend  upon  this  rough  man  of  the  plains. 

"Ma'am,"  he  went  on  after  a  while,  "not  apropy 
of  nothing,  as  they  say  in  the  novels,  I  wish  you  and 
your  dad  would  hurry  and  get  your  old  railroad 
through  here.  Us  folks  may  some  of  us  want  to  go 
back  to  the  States  sometime,  and  it's  a  long  way  to 
ride  from  Heart's  Desire  to  any  railroad  the  way  it 
is,  unless  you've  got  mighty  good  company,  like  I 
have  this  trip.  I  get  awful  lonesome  sometimes, 
drivin'  between  here  and  Vegas.  I  had  a  parrot 
onct,  and  a  phonygraph,  as  you  may  remember,  but 
the  fellers  took  'em  both  away  from  me,  you  know. 


318  HEART'S  DESIRE 

I'm  thinkin'  of  makin'  up  to  that  oldest  girl  from 
Kansas  and  settlin'  down.  She  makes  fine  pies. 
I've  knew  one  of  her  pies  to  last  two  hundred  miles 
—  all  the  way  up  to  Vegas  —  they're  that  permernent. 
She  reminds  me  a  heap  of  my  third  wife.  Now, 
allowin'  I  did  take  one  more  chanct,  and  make  up  to 
that  oldest  girl,  we'd  look  fine,  wouldn't  we,  takin' 
a  weddin'  trip  in  this  here  wagon,  and  not  on  no 
railroad !" 

Constance  was  smiling  now.  "I've  got  her  gentled 
and  comin'  along  right  easy  now,"  thought  Tom 
Osby  to  himself. 

"I  knowed  a  feller  up  in  Vegas  onct,"  he  went  on, 
"got  married  and  went  plumb  to  New  York,  towering 
around.  He  got  lost  on  a  ferry-boat  down  there 
somewhere,  and  rode  back  and  forrard  all  day;  and 
says  he  to  me,  'Blamed  if  every  man  in  that  town 
didn't  get  his  boots  blacked  every  day.'  That's 
foolish." 

The  girl  laughed  outright,  rolling  the  veil  back  from 
her  face  now,  and  taking  a  full  look  up  at  the  sky, 
with  more  enjoyment  in  life  than  she  had  felt  for  days. 
Further  conversation,  however,  was  interrupted  by 
a  deep  snore  from  the  rear  of  the  wagon. 

"That,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "sounds  like  the  old  man 
had  got  the  potato  loose." 

"I'm  ashamed  of  him,"  declared  Constance. 

"Natural,"  said  Tom;   "but  why  special?" 

"He  oughtn't  to  touch  that  whiskey.    I  hate  it." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  319 

"So  do  I,  when  it  ain't  good.  That  in  the  can  is 
good.  It's  only  fair  your  dad  should  break  even  for 
some  of  the  whiskey  he  give  the  Lone  Star.  They 
didn't  have  a  drop  when  I  got  in.  Now,  that's 
another  reason  why  we  ought  to  have  a  railroad  at 
Heart's  Desire.  It  might  prevent  a  awful  stringency, 
sometime.   There's  Dick  McGinnis,  why,  he  nearly — n 

"But  it's  not  coming.  It  will  not  be  built.  They 
wouldn't  let  us  in.    We  couldn't  get  the  right  of  way." 

"Now  listen  at  you!  You  mean  your  daddy 
couldn't,  nor  his  lawyer  couldn't.  Of  course  not. 
But  you  haven't  tried  it  your  own  self  yet." 

"How  could  I?" 

"Well,  you'd  a  heap  more  sense  than  to  size  up 
things  the  way  your  pa  did.  The  boys  told  me  all 
about  what  happened.  A  man  out  here  don't  holler 
if  you  beat  him  fair,  but  if  you  stack  the  cards  on  him, 
that's  different.     Dan  Anderson  done  just  right." 

"He  broke  up  all  our  plans,"  Constance  retDrted 
hotly ;  and  at  once  flushed  at  her  own  speech. 

"What  was  he  to  do?  Sell  out?  Turn  the  whole 
town  over  to  you  folks?  Soon  as  he  knows  what's 
up,  he  throws  back  the  money  and  tells  the  road  to 
go  to  hell.  He  kept  his  promise  to  me,  and  to  all 
the  other  fellers  that  had  spoke  to  him  about  lookin' 
after  their  places.     He  done  right." 

Constance  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  far  shim- 
mering horizon.  At  length  she  faced  about  and 
bravely  met  Tom  Osby's  eyes.     "Yes,  he  was  right," 


320  HEART'S  DESIRE 

she  said.  "He  did  what  was  right."  But  she  drew 
a  long  breath  as  she  spoke. 

"Ma'am/'  said  Tom  Osby,  regarding  her  keenly, 
"not  referrin'  to  the  fact  that  you're  squarer  than 
your  men  folks,  I  want  to  say  that,  speakin'  of  game 
folks,  you're  just  as  game  as  any  man  I  ever  saw. 
Lots  of  women  is.  Seems  like  they  have  to  be  game 
by  just  not  lettin'  on,  sometimes." 

She  felt  his  eyes  upon  her,  and  this  time  turned 
away  her  own.  For  a  time  they  were  silent,  as  the 
well-worn  wagon  rolled  along  behind  the  long-step- 
ping grays;  but  Tom  Osby  was  patient. 

"A  while  ago,"  he  resumed  after  a  time,  "you  said 
'we,'  and  'our  railroad.'  That's  mighty  near  right. 
You  two  folks  right  here  in  this  wagon,  yourself  par- 
ticular, can  save  that  there  railroad,  and  save  Heart's 
Desire,  both  at  the  same  time.  And  that's  some- 
thing, even  if  them  was  all  that  was  saved." 

"I  don't  quite  see  what  you  mean,"  answered  Con- 
stance. 

"Oh,  now,  look  here,"  said  Tom,  filling  another 
pipe,  "I  ain't  so  foolish.  I  ain't  goin'  to  say  that 
the  old  days'll  last  forever.  We  all  know  better'n 
that  when  it  comes  right  down  to  straight  reasonin'. 
A  country'll  sleep  about  so  long,  same  as  a  man ;  and 
then  it'll  wake  up.  I've  seen  the  States  come  West 
for  forty  years.     They're  comin'  swifter 'n  ever  now." 

"When  we  first  came  here,"  said  Constance,  "I 
thought  this  was  the  very  end  of  all  the  world." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  321 

"It  has  been.  And  the  finest  place  in  all  the  world, 
ma'am,  is  right  at  the  end  of  the  world.  That's 
where  a  man  can  feel  right  independent.  A  woman 
can't  understand  that,  no  way  on  earth.  A  man's 
a  right  funny  thing,  ma'am.  He's  all  the  time 
hankerin'  to  git  into  some  country  out  at  the  end 
of  the  world,  where  there  ain't  a  woman  within  a 
thousand  miles;  and  then  as  quick  as  he  gets  there, 
he  begins  to  holler  for  some  woman  to  come  out  and 
save  his  life!" 

She  turned  upon  him  again,  smiling  in  spite  of 
herself. 

"The  boys  have  been  mighty  slow  to  let  go  of  the 
old  days,"  he  went  on.  "In  some  ways  there  won't 
never  be  no  better  days.  We  never  had  a  thief  in 
our  valley,  until  your  pa  come  in  here  last  summer. 
There  ain't  been  a  lock  on  a  door  in  four  hundred 
miles  of  this  country  in  the  last  twenty  years.  When 
the  railroad  comes  the  first  thing  it'll  bring  will  be 
locks  and  bolts.  At  the  same  time,  it's  got  to  come 
—  I  know  that.  We've  about  had  our  sleep  and 
our  dream  out,  ma'am." 

" It  was  beautiful,"  Constance  murmured  vaguely; 
and  he  caught  her  meaning. 

"Yes,  plumb  beautiful.  Folks  that  hasn't  tried  it 
don't  know.  A  man  that's  lived  the  old  life  here, 
with  a  real  gun  on  him  as  regular  as  pants,  why,  in 
about  three  years  he  gets  what  we  call  galvanized. 
He'll  never  be  the  same  after  that.    He'll  never  go 


322  HEART'S  DESIRE 

back  to  the  States  no  more.  That's  hard  for  you  to 
understand,  ain't  it?  And  yet  that  sort  of  feelin' 
catches  almost  any  man  out  here,  sooner  or  later,  if 
he's  any  good.    It's  the  country,  ma'am." 

A  strange  spell  seemed  now  to  fall  upon  Constance 
herself,  as  she  sat  gazing  out  in  the  sunlight.  She 
felt  the  fatalism,  the  unconcern  of  a  child,  of  a  young 
creature.  She  understood  perfectly  all  that  she  had 
heard,  and  was  ready  to  listen  further. 

"Of  course,"  continued  Tom,  "this,  bein'  South, 
and  bein'  West,  it  ain't  really  a  part  of  the  United 
States;  so  I  can't  save  the  whole  country.  But,  such 
as  this  part  of  the  country  is,  I  reckon  I'll  have  to 
save  it.  You'll  see  my  name  wrote  on  tablets  in 
marble  halls  some  day;  because  I've  got  a  hard  job. 
I've  got  to  reconcile  these  folks  to  your  dad !  And 
yet  I'm  going  to  make  'em  say,  'Now  is  the  winter  of 
our  discontent  made  glorious  summer  by  this  son-of-a- 
gun  from  New  York/  You  didn't  know  I  read 
Shakespeare?  Why,  I  read  him  constant,  even  if  I 
do  have  to  wear  specs  now  for  fine  print." 

Constance,  in  spite  of  herself,  laughed  outright  with 
so  merry  a  peal  that  she  wakened  her  father  from  his 
slumber.  "What's  that?  What's  that?"  broke  in 
Mr.  Ellsworth,  suddenly  sitting  up  on  his  blankets. 

"Never  mind,  friend,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "you  go 
back  to  sleep  again ;  me  and  Miss  Constance  is  savin' 
things.  I  was  just  talkin'  to  her  about  her  rail- 
road." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  323 

Ellsworth  rubbed  his  eyes.  "By  Jove!"  he  ex- 
claimed suddenly,  "  that's  a  good  idea.  It  shall  be 
hers  if  she  says  so.  I'll  give  her  every  share  I  own 
if  that  road  ever  runs  into  the  valley." 

"Now  you  are  beginnin'  to  talk/7  said  Tom  Osby, 
calmly.  "Not  that  you'd  be  givin'  her  much;  for 
you  and  your  lawyer  wouldn't  be  able  to  get  the  rail- 
road in  there  in  a  thousand  years.  The  girl  can  play 
a  heap  stronger  game  than  both  of  you." 

"Well,  if  she  can,"  responded  Ellsworth,  "she's 
going  to  have  a  good  chance  to  do  it.  We're  going 
to  build  the  railroad  on  north,  and  we  don't  feel  like 
hauling  coal  down  that  canon  by  wagon." 

Tom  Osby  seemed  to  have  pursued  his  game  as  far 
as  he  cared  to  do  at  this  time.  "S'pose  we  stop  along 
somewhere  in  here,"  he  suggested,  "and  eat  a  little 
lunch?  My  horses  gets  hungry,  and  thirsty,  the 
same  as  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth.    Whoa,  boys!" 

Descending  from  his  high  seat,  he  now  unhitched 
his  team  and  strapped  on  their  heads  the  nose-bags 
with  the  precious  oats,  after  a  pail  of  not  less  precious 
water  from  the  cask  at  the  wagon's  side.  Methodi- 
cally he  kicked  together  a  little  pile  of  greasewood 
roots. 

"We're  to  have  some  tea,  you  know,"  he  remarked. 
"I  don't  charge  nothin'  extry  for  tea,  whiskey,  or 
advice  on  this  railroad  of  mine.  Get  down  now, 
ma'am,"  he  added,  reaching  up  his  arms  to  assist 
Constance  from  her  place.    "Come  along,  set  right 


324  HEART'S  DESIRE 

down  here  on  the  ground  in  the  sun.  It's  good  for 
you.    Ain't  it  nice  ? 

"There's  the  back  of  old  Carrizy  just  beginnin' 
to  show,"  he  explained;  "and  there's  the  Bonitos 
comin'  up  below.  That's  Blanco  Peak  beyond,  the 
tallest  in  the  Territory;  and  them  mountings  close 
in  is  the  Nogales.  There  ain't  a  soul  within  many 
and  many  a  mile  of  here.  And  now,  with  them  old 
mountings  a-lookin'  down  at  us  on  the  strict  cuidado, 
not  botherin'  us  if  we  don't. bother  them,  why,  ain't 
it  comfertable?  This  country'll  take  hold  of  you 
after  a  while,  ma'am.  It's  the  oldest  in  the  world; 
but  somehow  it  seems  to  me  onct  in  a  while  as  if  it 
was  about  the  youngest,  too." 

Constance  took  the  counsel  offered  her,  and  seated 
herself  in  full  glare  of  the  Southwestern  sun.  She 
looked  about  her  and  felt  an  unwonted  sense  of  peace, 
as  though  she  were  rocked  in  some  great  cradle  and 
under  some  watchful  eye.  "Dad,"  said  she,  quietly, 
"I'm  not  going  home.  I'm  going  to  spend  a  month 
at  Sky  Top." 

"Has  it  caught  you,  ma'am?"  asked  Tom  Osby, 
simply. 

"She  talks  as  though  there  were  no  business  interests 
anywhere  to  be  taken  care  of,"  grumbled  her  father. 

"Oh,  now,  interests  ain't  exclusive  for  the  States," 
said  Tom  Osby.  "You  come  all  the  way  out  here  to 
steal  a  town,  and  you  couldn't  do  it.  Give  the  girl 
a  month,  an'  she'll  just  about  have  the  town  —  or 


HEART'S  DESIRE  325 

her  and  me  together  will.  You  settin'  there  talkin' 
about  goin'  home !  Go  on  home  if  you  feel  like  it. 
Me  and  Miss  Constance  will  stay  out  here,  and  take 
care  of  the  business  interests  ourselves." 

"  We're  personally  conducted,  dad/'  laughed  Con- 
stance. 

"  Listen,"  said  their  personal  conductor,  balancing 
a  cup  of  tea  upon  his  knee.  "Now,  you  folks  has  got 
money  behind  you  that's  painful.  You  don't  have 
to  steal,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  It's  only  a  habit  with  you. 
Now  s'pose  Miss  Constance  comes  along,  allowin' 
that  God  can  plat  a  town  as  well  as  a  surveyor,  and 
allowin'  that  the  first  fellers  that  finds  it  has  as  good 
a  right  to  it  as  the  last  ones  —  which  she  does  allow, 
and  know.  Now,  here's  what  she  says.  Says  she, 
'We'll  go  in  with  this  outfit,  and  we  won't  try  to 
steal  the  landscape.  We'll  pay  for  every  foot  of 
ground  that's  claimed  by  anybody  that  seen  it  first. 
We  won't  try  to  move  no  ancient  landmarks,  like 
log  houses  that  dates  back  to  Jack  Wilson.  We'll 
put  in  the  yard  at  the  lower  end  of  the  town,  pro- 
vided that  Mr.  Thomas  Osby,  Esquire,  gives  his  per- 
mission—  always  admittin'  there  may  be  just  as 
good  places  for  Mr.  Thomas  Osby,  Esquire,  a  little 
farther  back  in  the  foot-hills,  if  he  feels  like  goin'  there. 
Now  I  reckon  Miss  Constance  makes  Mr.  Thomas 
Osby,  Esquire,  yardmaster  at  the  new  deepot/ 

"Of  course,"  assented  Constance;  and  her  father 
nodded. 


326  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"That'd  be  fair,  and  it'd  be  easy/'  went  on  Tom. 
"  We'll  fix  it  up  that-a-way,  me  and  Miss  Constance 
—  not  you.  And  as  soon  as  we  get  to  a  telegraft 
office,  we  fire  the  general  counsel,  Mr.  Barkley; 
don't  we,  Miss  Constance?"  The  girl  nodded 
grimly. 

"He's  fired,"  said  Tom.  "You  can  take  care  of 
that  the  first  thing  you  do,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  Then 
you  can  make  out  my  papers  as  yardmaster  and  gen- 
eral boss  of  the  deepot.    You  can  be  clerk. 

"Now  here  we  go,  the  railroad  cars  a  choo-chooin' 
up  our  canon,  same  as  down  here  at  Sky  Top.  In 
the  front  car  is  the  president,  which  is  Miss  Constance, 
with  me  clost  along,  the  new  yardmaster.  Your  pa 
is  somewhere  back  on  the  train,  Miss  Constance,  with 
the  money  to  pay  off  the  hands.  He's  useful,  but 
not  inderspensible." 

"Go  on!"  applauded  Constance.  "Who  besides 
us  and  poor  old  dad?" 

Tom  Osby  turned  and  looked  at  her  gravely. 

"And  there  comes  down  to  meet  us  at  the  station," 
he  concluded,  "the  only  man  we  needed  to  help  us 
put  this  thing  through."  Tom  Osby  finished  his 
tea  in  silence.  Constance  herself  made  no  comment. 
Her  gaze  was  on  the  far-off  mountains. 

"That  there  man,"  he  resumed,  shaking  out  the 
grounds  from  his  tea-cup,  "is  the  new  division  coun- 
sel for  the  road,  the  first  mayor  of  Heart's  Desire, — 
after  Miss  Constance,  —  and  mighty  likely  the  next 


••  •  Something  has  got  to  bk  did,  and  did  miohty  blame  quick. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  327 

Congressional  delergate  from  this  Territory.  Now 
can  you  both  guess  who  that  man  is?" 

"I'll  admit  he's  a  bigger  man  than  Barkley,"  said 
Ellsworth,  slowly.  "That  boy  would  make  a  grand 
trial  lawyer.    They  couldn't  beat  him." 

"No,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "they'd  think  he  was  square, 
and  that  means  a  lot.  They  do  think  he's  square; 
and  the  boys  are  goin'  to  do  something  for  him  if 
they  can.    Now  if  he  gets  back  — " 

Constance  turned  upon  him  with  a  glance  of  swift 
appeal. 

"As  I  was  sayin',  when  he  gets  back,"  resumed 
Tom,  "some  of  us  fellers  may  perhaps  take  it  up  with 
him,  and  tell  him  wiiat  Miss  Constance  wants  to  have 
done." 

This  was  too  much.  The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet. 
"You'll  tell  him  nothing!"   she  cried. 

Ellsworth  turned  to  Tom  Osby  with  a  sober  face. 
"Young  Anderson  rode  away  from  us  the  other  morn- 
ing," said  he,  "and  he  hardly  troubled  himself  to  say 
good-by.  We  used  to  know  him  back  East;  and 
he  needn't  have  taken  that  affair  of  the  railroad 
meeting  so  much  to  heart." 

"Come!"  called  Constance,  "get  ready  and  let's 
be  going.  I'm  sick  of  this  country!"  She  walked 
rapidly  away  from  the  others. 

"A  woman  can  change  some  sudden,  can't  she, 
Mr.  Ellsworth?"   remarked  Tom  Osby,  slowly. 

"Look  here,  Miss  Constance,"  said  he,  presently, 


328  HEART'S  DESIRE 

when  he  came  nearer  to  her,  standing  apart  from  the 
wagon,  "there's  been  mistakes  and  busted  plans 
enough  in  here  already.  Now  don't  get  on  no  high 
horse  and  break  up  my  scheme." 

" Don't  talk  to  me!"    She  stamped  her  foot. 

"Ma'am!  ain't  you  ashamed  to  say  them  words?" 
She  did  not  answer,  and  Tom  Osby  took  the  step  for 
which  he  had  been  preparing  throughout  the  entire 
morning. 

"Ma'am,"  said  he,  "one  word  from  you  would 
bring  that  feller  to  you  on  the  keen  lope.  He'd  fix 
the  railroad  all  right  mighty  soon.    Then  besides  — " 

She  turned  away.  "  The  question  of  the  railroad 
is  a  business  one,  and  nothing  else  ;  talk  to  my  father 
about  it." 

Tom  went  silently  about  his  preparations  for  re- 
suming the  journey.  When  he  came  to  put  the 
horses  to  the  wagon  tongue,  he  found  Constance 
sitting  there,  staring  with  misty  eyes  at  the  distant 
hills  beyond  which  lay  Heart's  Desire.  Tom  Osby 
paused  at  the  shelter  of  the  wagon  cover  and  backed 
away. 

"Something  has  got  to  be  did,"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  "and  did  mighty  blame  quick.  If  we  don't 
get  some  kind  of  hobbles  on  that  girl,  she's  goin'  to 
jump  the  fence  and  go  back  home." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   CONSPIRACY  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Tliis  being  the  Story  of  a  Sheepherder,  Two  Warm  Per- 
sonal  Friends,  and  their  Love-letter  to  a  Beautiful 
Queen 

When  Tom  Osby  came  back  to  Heart's  Desire,  he 
drew  Curly  to  one  side,  and  the  two  walked  over  to  a 
shady  spot  at  the  side  of  Whiteman's  corral,  seating 
themselves  for  what  was  evidently  to  be  an  execu- 
tive session. 

Tom  Osby  continued  to  stuff  tobacco  into  his  pipe 
with  a  stubby' forefinger,  and  Curly 's  hat  was  pushed 
back  from  a  forehead  wrinkled  in  deep  thought. 

"It's  a  good  deal  like  you  say,  Tom,"  he  assented; 
"I  know  that.  Unless  we  can  get  Dan  Anderson  and 
that  girl  to  some  sort  of  an  understanding  the  jig's 
up,  and  there  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  no  railroad  at  Heart's 
Desire.     But  how're  you  a-goin'  to  do  that  ?  " 

"Well,  I  done  told  you  what  I  thought,"  said  Tom 
Osby.  "I'm  a  married  man,  been  married  seven 
times,  or  maybe  six.  There's  just  two  things  I  under- 
stand, and  them  is  horses  and  women,  which  I  ought 
to,  from  associatin'  with  them  constant.  Now,  I  tell 
you,  if  I'm  any  judge  of  women,  that  girl  thinks  a 

329 


330  HEART'S  DESIRE 

heap  of  Dan  Anderson,  no  matter  what  she  lets  on. 
It's  her  that's  got  the  railroad  up  her  sleeve.  The 
old  man  just  thinks  she's  a  tin  angel  with  fresh  paint. 
Why,  he's  done  give  her  the  whole  railroad.  He  don't 
want  it.  He's  got  money  now  that's  sinful.  Now, 
I  say,  she's  got  the  railroad.  Dan  Anderson's  chances, 
they  go  with  the  railroad.  If  she  could  just  get  him 
to  go  with  the  business  chances,  that'd  about  fix 
things ;  and  I  more'n  half  believe  she'd  drop  into 
line  right  free  and  gentle." 

"Well,  why  don't  she  say  so,  then,"  grumbled 
Curly,  "and  stop  this  foolishness?" 

"Now  there  you  go!"  replied  Tom.  "Can't  you 
see  that  any  woman  on  earth,  even  a  married  woman, 
is  four-thirds  foolishness  and  the  rest  human  ?  With 
girls  it's  still  worse'n  that.  If  I'm  any  judge,  she's 
wishin'  a  certain  feller' d  come  along  and  shake  the 
tree.  But  she  ain't  goin'  to  fall  off  until  the  tree's 
done  shook.  Consequently,  there  she  is,  still  up  the 
tree,  and  our  railroad  with  her." 

"Looks  like  he  ought  to  make  the  first  break," 
observed  Curly,  sagely. 

"Of  course  he  ought.  But  mil  he,  that's  the 
question." 

"No,  he  won't,"  admitted  Curly,  pushing  his  hat 
still  farther  back  on  his  head.  "He's  took  his  stand, 
and  done  what  he  allowed  was  right.  After  that,  he 
ain't  built  to  crawfish.  He's  passed  up  the  girl,  and 
the  railroad,  too,  and  I  reckon  that  settles  it." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  331 

"  And  yet  he  thinks  a  heap  of  the  girl." 

" Natural!  Of  course  he  does.  How  can  he  help 
it?  That's  where  the  trouble  is.  I  tell  you,  Tom, 
these  here  things  is  sort  of  personal.  If  these  two 
folks  is  havin'  trouble  of  their  own,  why,  it's  their 
trouble,  and  it  ain't  for  us  to  square  it,  railroad  or 
no  railroad." 

"When  two  people  is  damn  fools,"  commented 
Tom  Osby,  gravely,  "it's  all  right  for  foreign  powers 
to  mediate  a-plenty." 

"But  what  you  goin'  to  do?  She  won't  bat  a  eye 
at  him,  and  he  ain't  goin'  to  send  for  her." 

"Oh,  yes  he  is,"  corrected  Tom  Osby;  and  the 
forefinger,  crowding  tobacco  into  his  pipe,  worked 
vigorously.     "He's  got  to  send  for  her." 

"Looks  to  me  like  we  can't  do  nothin',"  replied 
his  friend,  pessimistically.  "I  like  that  girl,  too. 
Say,  I'll  braid  her  a  nice  hair  rope  and  take  it  down 
to  her.  Maybe  that'll  kind  o'  square  things  with  her 
for  losin'  out  with  Dan." 

"Yes,"  scoffed  Tom  Osby,  "that's  all  the  brains  a 
fool  cow  puncher  has  got.  Do  you  reckon  a  hair 
lariat,  or  a  new  pair  of  spurs,  is  any  decent  remedy 
for  a  girl's  wownded  affections?  No,  sir,  not  none. 
No,  you  go  on  down  and  take  your  old  hair  rope  with 
you,  and  give  it  to  the  girl.  That's  all  right;  but 
you're  goin'  to  take  something  else  along  with  you  at 
the  same  time." 

"What's  that?" 


332  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Why,  you're  goin'  to  take  a  letter  to  her,  —  a 
letter  from  Dan  Anderson's  death-bed." 

"Who— me?  Death-bed?  Why,  he  ain't  on  no 
death-bed.  He's  eatin'  three  squares  a  day  and 
settin'  up  readin'  novels.     Death-bed  nothin'!" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Tom  Osby,  "that's  where  you're 
mistaken.  Dan  Anderson  is  on  his  death-bed;  and 
he  writes  his  dyin'  confession,  his  message  in  such 
cases  made  and  pervided.  He  sends  his  last  words 
to  his  own  true  love.  Says  he, '  All  is  forgiven.'  Then 
she  flies  to  receive  his  dyin'  words.  You  ain't  got 
no  brains,  Curly.  You  ain't  got  no  imagination. 
Why,  if  I  left  all  this  to  you,  she'd  get  here  too  late 
for  the  funeral.  You're  a  specialist,  Curly.  You  can 
rope  and  throw  a  two-thousand-pound  steer,  but  you 
can't  handle  a  woman  that  don't  weigh  over  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five.    Now,  you  watch  your  Pa." 

Curly  sat  and  looked  at  him  in  silence  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  at  last  a  light  seemed  to  dawn  upon  him. 
"Oh,  I  see,"  said  he,  smiling  broadly.  "You  mean 
for  us  to  get  up  a  letter  for  him  — ■  write  it  out  and 
send  it,  like  he  done  it  hisself." 

Tom  Osby  nodded.  "Of  course  —  that's  the  only 
way.  There  wouldn't  either  of  them  write  to  the 
other  one.  That's  the  trouble  with  these  here  States 
girls,  and  them  men  from  the  States,  too.  You  have  to 
take  care  of  'em.  You  and  me  has  got  to  be  gardeens 
for  these  two  folks.  If  we  don't,  they're  goin'  to  make 
all  kinds  of  trouble  for  theirselves  and  each  other." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  333 

"Kin  you  disguise  your  handwritin'  any,  Tom?" 
asked  Curly.     "I  can't.    Mine's  kind  of  sot." 

"Curly,"  answered  Tom,  with  scorn,  "what  you 
call  your  brains  is  only  a  oroide  imitation  of  a  dollar 
watch.  Why,  of  course  we  can't  write  a  letter  and 
sign  his  name  to  it  deliberate.  That's  forgery,  and 
we'd  get  into  the  penitentiary  for  it«  That  ain't  the 
way  to  do. 

"Now  look  here.  Dan  Anderson  may  be  lookin' 
right  well  for  a  dyin'  man,  but  he's  on  his  death-bed 
just  the  same.  That's  needful  for  the  purposes  of 
dramatic  construction.  He's  a-layin'  there,  pale  and 
wore  out.  His  right  arm  is  busted  permernent,  and 
it's  only  a  question  of  time  when  he  cashes  in  — 
though  he  might  live  a  few  days  if  he  was  plumb 
shore  his  own  true  love  was  a-hastenin'  to  his  bedside." 

"But  it  was  his  left  arm  that  got  shot,"  argued 
Curly;  "  and  it  didn't  amount  to  a  whole  lot  at  that." 

"There's  you  go,"  jeered  Tom,  in  answer,  "with 
them  imitation  brain  works  of  yours.  It's  his  right 
arm  that's  busted.  Now,  him  a-layin'  there  plumb 
helpless,  his  thoughts  turns  to  his  bride  that  might 
'a'  been,  but  wasn't.  With  his  last  dyin'  words  he 
greets  her.  If  she  would  only  hasten  to  his  death- 
bed, he  could  die  in  peace.  That's  what  he  writes 
to  her.  'Dear  Madam/  says  he,  'Havin'  loved  you 
all  my  life,  I  fain  would  gaze  on  you  onct  more.  In 
that  case/  says  he,  'the  clouds  certainly  would  roll 
away!'" 


334  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"That  shorely  would  fetch  her,"  said  Curly,  admir- 
ingly, "but  how  you  goin'  to  fix  it?" 

"Why,  how?  There  ain't  but  one  way.  The 
dyin'  man  has  his  dear  friend  Curly,  or  Tom  Osby, 
or  some  one,  write  his  last  words  for  him.  That  ain't 
counterfeitin'.  That's  only  actin'  as  his  literary 
amanyensis,   and  that's  plumb  legal." 

"Things  may  be  legal,  and  not  safe"  objected 
Curly.     "Supposin'  he  finds  out?" 

"Why,  then,  we'll  be  far,  far  away.  This  letter 
has  got  to  be  wrote.  I  can't  write  it  myself,  and 
you  can't;  but  maybe  several  of  us  could." 

"I  ain't  in  on  writin'  the  letter,"  Curly  decided; 
"I'll  carry  it,  but  my  writin'  is  too  sot,  and  so's  my 
thinker." 

"Well,  I  ain't  used  my  own  thinker  in  this  par- 
ticular way  for  about  twenty  years,"  said  Tom 
Osby,  "although  I  did  co'te  two  of  my  wives  by 
perlite  correspondence,  something  like  this;  and  I 
couldn't  see  but  what  them  wives  lasted  as  good  as 
any." 

"It's  too  bad  Dan  Anderson  ain't  in  on  this  play 
hisself,"  Curly  resumed.  "Now  if  it  was  us  that  was 
layin'  dead,  and  him  writin'  the  letter,  he'd  have 
us  both  alive,  and  have  the  girl  here  by  two  o'clock 
to-morrer,  and  everything  'd  be  lovely.  But  us! 
We  don't  know  any  more  about  this  than  a  pair  of 
candy,  frogs." 

"The  fewer  there  is  in  on  a  woman  deal  the  better," 


HEART'S  DESIRE  335 

said  Tom  Osby,  "  and  yet  it  looks  like  we  needed  help 
right  now!" 

The  two  sat  gazing  gloomily  down  the  long  street 
of  Heart's  Desire,  and  so  intent  were  they  that  they 
did  not  see  the  shambling  figure  of  Willie  the  sheep- 
herder  coming  up  the  street.  Then  Tom  Osby's 
gaze  focussed  him. 

"  Now  there's  that  damned  sheepherder  that  broke 
us  up  in  business,"  said  he.  "It  was  him  that  got  us 
into  this  fix.  If  he  hadn't  lied  like  a  infernal  pirate, 
and  got  Dan  Anderson  to  thinkin'  that  the  girl  and 
this  lawyer  feller  Barkley  was  engaged  to  each  other 
on  the  side,  why  Dan  wouldn't  have  flared  up  and 
busted  the  railroad  deal,  and  let  the  girl  get  away, 
and  gone  and  got  hisself  shot." 

"S'posin'  I  shoot  Willie  up  just  for  luck,"  suggested 
Curly.  "He's  got  it  comin'  to  him,  from  the  way 
that  Gee- Whiz  friend  of  his  throwed  lead  into  our 
fellers,  time  we  was  arguin'  with  them  over  them 
sheep.  This  country  ain't  got  no  use  for  sheep,  nor 
sheepherders  either,  specially  the  kind  that  makes 
trouble  with  railroads,  and  girls." 

"No,  hold  on  a  minute,"  interrupted  Tom  Osby. 
"You  wait  —  I've  got  a  idea." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Wait  a  minute.  How  saith  the  psalmist?  All 
men  is  liars;  and  sheepherders  special,  natural, 
eigh teen-karat,  hand-curled  liars — which  is  just  the 
sort  we  need  right  now  in  our  business." 


336  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Curly  slapped  his  thigh  in  sudden  understanding. 
The  two  sat,  still  watching  Willie  as  he  came  rambling 
aimlessly  up  the  street,  staring  from  side  to  side  in 
his  vacant  fashiom 

"A  sheepherder,  as  you  know,  Curly,"  went  on 
Tom,  "has  three  stages  in  his  game.  For  a  while 
he's  human.  In  a  few  years,  settin'  round  on  the 
hills  in  the  sun,  a-watchin'  them  damned  woolly 
baa-baa's  of  his,  he  gets  right  nutty.  He  sees  things. 
Him  a-gettin'  so  lonesome,  and  a-readin'  high-class 
New  York  literature  all  the  time,  he  gets  to  thinkin' 
of  the  Lady  Eyemogene.  You  might  think  he's 
seein'  cactus  and  sheep,  but  what  is  really  floatin' 
before  him  is  proud  knights,  and  haughty  barons, 
and  royal  monarchs,  and  Lady  Eyemogenes. 

"It  ain't  sinful  for  Willie  to  lie,  like  it  is  for  us, 
because  life  is  one  continuous  lie  to  him.  He's  seen 
a  swimmin'  picture  of  hand-painted  palaces,  and 
noble  jukes,  and  stately  dames  out  on  the  Nogal 
flats  every  day  for  eight  years.  That  ain't  lyin '  — 
that's  imagination. 

"Now  this  feller's  imagination  is  just  about  ripe. 
Usual,  at  the  end  of  about  seven  years,  a  sheep- 
herder  goes  plumb  dotty,  and  we  either  have  to 
shoot  him,  or  send  him  to  Leavenworth.  Your  Gee- 
Whiz  man  can  maybe  take  to  cow  punchin'  and 
prosper,  but  not  Willie.  His  long  suit  is  imaginin' 
things,  from  now  on. 

"Now,  that  feller  is  naturally  pinin'  to  write  thic 


HEART'S  DESIRE  337 

here  particular  letter  we've  got  on  our  minds.  You 
watch  Willie  compose." 

"Here  you,  Willie,  come  over  here!"  Curly  called 
out. 

The. herder  started  in  fright.  Timid  at  best,  he 
was  all  the  more  so  since  the  raid  of  the  Carrizoso 
stock  men.  His  legs  trembled  under  him,  but  he 
slowly  approached  in  obedience. 

"Willie,"  said  Tom  Osby,  sternly,  "I'm  some 
hardened  as  a  sinner  my  own  self,  but  the  kind  of 
way  you  do  pains  me.  What  made  you  tell  that  lie 
about  seein'  the  lady  and  that  lawyer  feller  makin' 
love  to  each  other,  on  the  back  seat  of  the  buckboard, 
behind  the  old  man's  back?" 

"I  thought  I  seen  'em,"  pleaded  Willie.  "I  — I 
thought  I  heard  'em  talkin'." 

"Oh,  sufferin'  saints!  Listen  to  that!  You 
thought!  Of  course  you  did.  You  and  that  Gee- 
Whiz  friend  of  yours  ought  to  turn  yourselves  into 
a  symposium  and  write  for  the  papers.  Now  look 
here.  Have  you  got  a  copy  of  the  '  Proud  Earl's 
Revenge/  in  your  pocket?" 

Willie  tremulously  felt  in  his  clothing,  and  did 
produce  a  dog-eared  volume  to  somewhat  that  effect. 
Tom  Osby  turned  over  a  few  of  the  pages  thought- 
fully, and  then  sat  up  with  a  happy  smile.  "There 
ain't  no  trouble  about  that  letter  now!"  said  he. 

"What  —  what  —  what  do  you  want?"  asked 
Willie.    Then  they  told  him.    Willie  radiated  hap- 


338  HEART'S  DESIRE 

piness.  He  sat  down  beside  them,  his  hands  trem- 
bling with  joy  and  eagerness  —  conspirator  number 
three  for  the  peace  and  dignity  of  Heart's  Desire. 

"Go  get  some  paper,  Curly/'  said  Tom  Osby,  and 
Curly  departed.  Willie  remained  wrapped  in  thought, 
his  mind  confused  at  this  sudden  opportunity. 

"It's  all  about  Lancelot,"  said  he. 

"What  brand  did  Lancelot  ride  under?  Now, 
no  foolin',  Willie." 

"  Why  —  why  —  why,"  said  Willie,  "  Lancelot, 
he's  at  a  tournyment.  Now,  he  loves  a  beautiful 
queen." 

"  Shore  he  does  I  That  goes.  What's  the  queen's 
name?" 

"  Her  name  —  her  name  —  her  name's  Guinevere," 
replied  Willie.  "And  the  proud  king,  he  brooks  it 
ill.     The  proud  king's  name  is  Arthur." 

"Oh,  no,  it  ain't  /"  said  Tom  Osby.  "There  ain't 
no  man  who's  name  is  Arthur  that  has  no  scrap  to 
him.     It  ain't  Arthur  that  goes  on  no  war-path." 

"Yes,  he  did,"  insisted  Willie.  "Lancelot  gets 
herded  out.  He  gets  shot  up  some  at  the  tourny- 
ment, so  he  leaves  the  beautiful  queen,  and  he  rides 
off  for  the  range  all  alone  by  himself.  He's  like  a 
sheepherder." 

"Come  on  with  the  paper,  Curly,"  called  Tom 
Osby.  "  This  feller's  thinker  is  workin'  fine.  Go  on, 
Willie." 

"Now,  Lancelot,  he's  layin'  at  the  point  of  death, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  339 

and  he's  thinkin'  all  the  time  of  Guinevere.  I  reckon 
he  writes  her  a  letter,  and  he  says,  says  he,  'Dear 
Lady,  I  send  thee  my  undyin'  love/  says  he.  {I 
kiss  the  picture  which  is  a-layin'  on  my  breast/ 
says  he;  'and  with  my  last  breath/  says  he,  (I 
shorely  yearn  for  thee ! ' " 

"  Meanin'  Guinevere  ?  " 

"Shore!  Says  Lancelot,  'Fair  queen,  thou  didst 
me  a  injury  onct;  but  couldst  thou  but  come  and 
stand  at  my  bedside,  I  hadst  new  zeal  in  life/  says  he." 

"Meanin'  he'd  get  well?"  asked  Curly.  "That's 
the  same  as  Dan  Anderson!     This  feller's  a  peach!" 

"Shut  up!"  admonished  Tom  Osby.  "Go  on, 
Willie." 

"It's  always  that-a-way,"  said  Willie.  Tears  stood 
in  his  eyes.  He  looked  vaguely  out  over  the  blue 
hills  which  hedged  in  the  enchanted  valley  of  Heart's 
Desire.  "It's  always  that-a-way,"  he  repeated. 
"Somehow,  somewhere,  there's  always  a  beautiful 
queen,  for  every  fellow,  just  over  the  mountains. 
It's  always  that-a-way." 

Tom  Osby  reached  out  a  hand  and  gently  shook  him. 
"Set  up,  Willie,"  said  he.  "Come  down  now,  till  we 
get  this  business  fixed.  Now,  what  happens  after 
that?" 

Willie  winked  his  eyes  and  smiled  amiably.  "The 
sick  knight,  he  writes  a  missive  to  the  beautiful 
queen,"  he  went  on.  "He  sets  his  signet  ring  on  to 
the  missive,  and  he  hands  it  to  his  trusted  hench- 


340  HEART'S  DESIRE 

man,  and  his  trusted  henchman  flies  to  do  his  bid- 
ding." 

"  That's  you,  Curly,"  nodded  Tom  Osby.  "  You're 
the  trusted  henchman." 

"I'm  damned  if  I  am!"  replied  Curly.  "I'm 
nothin'  but  a  plain  cow  hand  from  the  Brazos;  but 
I  don't  take  ' henchman'  from  nobody!" 

"Hush!"  said  his  friend.  "This  feller's  a  genius. 
If  he  don't  get  side-tracked  on  Dead  Shot  Dick,  or 
something  of  that  kind,  this  letter  is  just  as  good  as 
wrote,  right  now." 

"  The  good  knight  presses  his  signet  ring  on  to  the 
missive,"  resumed  Willie,  "and  his  trusted  cow 
hand  wraps  the  missive  in  the  folds  of  his  cloak,  and 
climbs  on  to  his  trusted  steed,  and  flies  far,  far  away, 
to  the  side  of  the  beautiful  queen." 

"That's  good!" 

"And  the  beautiful  queen  reads  the  missive,  and 
clasps  her  hands,  and  says  she,  'My  Gawd ! '  " 

"Oh,  now  we're  gettin'  at  it!"  said  Tom  Osby. 
"Say,  this  is  pretty  poor,  ain't  it,  Curly?" 

"And  then,"  went  on  Willie,  frowning  at  the  inter- 
ruption, "the  beautiful  queen  sends  for  her  milk- 
white  palfrey,  and  she  flies  to  the  distant  bedside  of 
the  sufferin'  knight." 

"She'll  take  a  milk-white  buckboard,  more  likely," 
said  Tom  Osby.  "You  got  any  palfreys  on  your 
ranch,  Curly?  But  we'll  let  it  go  at  that.  She's 
got  to  fly  to  the  distant  bedside  somehow." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  341 

"Oh,  that'll  be  all  right,"  agreed  Willie,  sweetly. 
"  She'll  fly.  She'll  come.  It's  always  the  same.  It's 
always  the  same." 

"Write  it  down,  Willie,"  ordered  Tom  Osby, 
thrusting  the  paper  before  him.  Willie  hesitated, 
and  glanced  up  at  Tom. 

The  latter  balked  in  turn.  "  What !  Have  I  got 
to  start  it  for  you?  Well,  then,  begin  it.  'Dear 
Madam!"' 

Curly  shook  his  head.  "You  couldn't  never 
marry  a  woman  writin'  to  her  that-a-way."  And 
Tom,  rubbing  a  finger  over  his  chin,  had  to  admit 
the  justice  of  the  assertion. 

"Leave  it  to  Willie,"  suggested  Curly.  "He'll 
get  it  started  after  a  while.  Go  ahead,  Willie.  How 
did  he  say  it  to  her,  now,  when  he  sent  for  the  beauti- 
ful queen?" 

Tom  Osby's  pencil  followed  rapidly  as  it  might. 
"He  writes,"  said  Willie,  "like  they  always  do.  He 
says : '  Light  of  my  heart,  I  have  loved  you  for  these 
years,  and  they  have  seemed  so  long.  I  could  love 
no  other  woman  after  seeing  you,  and  this  you  should 
know  with  no  proof  but  my  word.  If  I  have  drawr 
apart  from  you,  'twas  through  no  fault  of  mine,  and 
this  I  pray  you  to  believe.  If  I  have  not  acted  to 
my  own  heart  the  full  part  of  a  man,  'tis  for  that 
reason  I  have  hidden  away;  but  believe  me,  my 
faith  and  my  love  have  been  the  same.  If  I  have 
missed  the  dear  sight  of  your  face,  'twas  because  I 


342  HEART'S  DESIRE 

could  not  call  it  mine  with  honor,  nor  dare  that  vision 
with  any  plea  on  my  lips,  or  any  feeling  in  my  heart, 
but  that  of  honor.  Heart's  Heart,  and  life  of  my 
life,  could  you  not  see  ?  I  could  not  doom  you  to  a 
life  unfit,  and  still  ask  you  to  love  me  as  a  man.'" 

He  passed  his  hand  across  his  face,  as  though  it 
were  not  himself  he  heard  speaking ;  but  he  went 
on. 

"'Now  I  lie  here  hurt  to  death,'  says  the  good 
knight  Lancelot.  'This  is  the  end.  Now,  at  the 
time  when  truth  must  come  from  the  soul,  I  say  to 
you,  my  queen'  —  she's  always  queen  to  him  — 
'  I  say  to  you,  I  have  loved  you  more  than  I  have 
loved  myself.  But  if  you  could  come,  if  you  could 
stand  at  my  bedside  before  it  is  too  late,  before  it  is 
too  late  —  too  late  —  '"  Willie's  voice  broke  into 
a  wail.  The  ray  of  light  was  almost  fading  from 
his  clouded  brain. 

"Go  on,"  whispered  Tom  Osby. 

"'My  queen,  my  darling — '  says  Lancelot." 

Willie's  hands,  trembling,  fell  into  his  lap.  "It's 
always  that-a-way,"  he  whimpered  vaguely,  coming 
now  to  himself. 

"Willie,"  said  Tom  Osby,  gently,  "I  ain't  right 
sure  I've  got  it  all  down  straight,  but  I  think  I  have. 
You  read  her  over,  and  touch  her  up  here  and  there 
where  she  needs  it.  Curly,  look  here.  I  don't 
believe  Dan  Anderson  would  hesertate  one  minute  to 
sign  this  if  he  saw  it." 


HEART'S  DESIRE  343 

"They  sign  it  with  their  hearts,"  said  Willie, 
vaguely.     "They  always  do." 

"He  signs  it  with  his  heart,"  said  Tom  Osby, 
"and  it  goes!"  He  folded  the  paper  and  handed  it 
to  Curly. 

"Saddle  up  that  Pinto  horse,  Curly,  if  you  can," 
said  he,  "and  make  the  run  to  Sky  Top  as  fast  as 
God'll  let  you.    This  letter's  all  right,  and  it  goes!" 

So  presently  there  rode  down  the  long  sunlit  street 
of  Heart's  Desire,  mounted  upon  the  mad  horse 
Pinto,  this  courier  to  the  queen,  bearing  a  message 
from  a  mad  brain  and  two  simple  hearts, — a  courier 
bound  upon  a  strange  and  kindly  errand. 

The  blue  mountains,  beyond  whose  rim  lived  the 
sovereign,  looked  gently  down,  and  the  stern  walls 
of  the  canon  seemed  to  widen  and  make  room  for 
the  messenger  as  he  swept  on,  carrying  the  greet- 
ings of  an  absent  knight  to  his  distant  queen. 

"It's  like  he  said,"  mused  Curly  to  himself,  feeling 
in  his  pocket  for  tobacco  as  he  rode.  "  It's  that-a- 
way,  and  I  reckon  it  always  has  been.  I've  felt 
like  that  myself  sometimes.    Oh,  Pinto!    Vamos!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ROMANCE  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  Pleasing  Recounted  of  an  Absent  Knight,  a   Gentle 
Lady ,  and  an  Ananias  with  Spurs 

Long  and  weary  miles  lay  before  Curly,  messenger 
to  the  queen,  but  the  bigness  of  his  errand  lightened 
the  way,  and  his  own  courage  and  hopefulness  com- 
municated themselves  to  his  steed.  The  mad  horse, 
Pinto,  indomitable,  unapproachable,  loped  along 
with  head  down  and  ears  back,  surly  at  touch  of 
rein  or  spur,  yet  steady  in  his  gait  as  an  antelope. 
The  two  swept  down  the  long  canon  from  Heart's 
Desire,  traversed  for  twenty-five  miles  the  alkali 
plain  below,  and  climbed  then  the  Nogales  and  the 
Bonitos,  over  paths  known  only  to  cattle  thieves 
and  those  who  pursued  them.  At  last  they  swung 
down  into  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Bonito,  and 
thence  in  the  night  far  to  the  southward,  until  at 
length  they  reached  the  defiles  of  the  Sacramentos. 
They  pulled  up  after  more  than  a  day  and  a  night  of 
travel,  weary  but  not  hopelessly  the  worse  for  wear, 
at  the  end  of  the  steep  trail  up  the  mountains  to  the 
Sky  Top  hotel. 

Curly,  a  trifle  gaunt,  gave  his  first  attention  to  his 

344 


HEART'S  DESIRE  345 

horse,  which  he  unsaddled  with  a  slap  of  approval, 
and  turned  loose  to  feed  as  best  it  might  on  the  coarse 
herbage  of  the  upper  heights.  His  next  thought  was 
for  himself,  and  he  realized  that  he  was  hungry.  Im- 
mediately there  dawned  upon  his  mind  another  great 
conviction.    He  was  scared ! 

He  looked  about  at  the  long  galleries  of  the  ornate 
modern  log  house,  wherein  civilization  sought  to  ape 
the  wilderness;  but  it  was  not  the  arrogant  preten- 
tiousness of  the  building  itself  which  caused  him  to 
shift  his  glance  and  stand  dubiously  upon  one  foot. 
It  was  the  thought  of  what  the  edifice  might  contain. 
There,  as  he  began  too  late  to  reflect,  was  the  queen ! 
He,  the  trusted  henchman,  was  bearing  to  her  a  mis- 
sive regarding  whose  nature  he  now  experienced 
sudden  misgivings.  Suppose  Willie,  the  sheepherder, 
had  not,  after  all,  been  able  to  meet  the  requirements 
of  a  situation  so  delicate  and  so  important!  Curly 
had  known  the  plains  and  the  mountains  all  his  life. 
He  had  ridden  in  the  press  of  the  buffalo  herd  in  the 
Panhandle,  had  headed  cattle  stampedes  in  the  breaks 
of  the  Pecos,  had  met  the  long-toed  cinnamon  bear 
all  over  these  mountains  that  lay  about  him  —  hal 
even  heard  the  whisper  of  hostile  lead  as  part  of  his 
own  day's  work, —  but  never  before  had  his  heart 
failed  him. 

Nevertheless,  his  face  puckered  into  a  frown  of 
determination,  he  stumbled,  a  trifle  pigeon-toed  in  his 
high-heeled  boots,  across  the  floor  of  one  gallery  after 


346  HEART'S  DESIRE 

another,  and  knocked  at  one  door  after  another, 
until  finally,  by  aid  of  lingering  Mexican  servants, 
he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  beautiful  queen 
whom  he  had  sought. 

He  ratified  her  title  when  she  came  toward  him 
where  he  stood,  twirling  his  hat  in  his  hands ;  so 
tall  was  she,  so  grave  and  dignified,  yet  so  very  sweet 
and  simple.  Curly  was  a  man,  and  he  felt  the  spell 
of  smooth  brown  hair  and  wide  brows,  and  straight, 
sincere  eyes;  not  to  speak  of  a  queen's  figure  clad 
in  such  raiment  as  had  not  often  been  given  Curly  to 
look  upon.  He  gazed  in  a  frank  admiration  which 
lessened  his  fear. 

Constance  Ellsworth  held  out  her  hand,  with 
questions  for  his  own  household  at  Heart's  Desire. 
Was  everything  right  with  them?  Was  Arabella 
quite  well  of  her  accident  ?  Was  his  wife  well  ?  And 
so  on.  But  all  the  time  she  questioned  him  deeper 
with  eyes  large,  wistful,  eager.  She  had  had  no 
news  since  leaving  Heart's  Desire,  and  now  she 
dreaded  any.  This,  then,  she  said  with  tightening 
heart,  was  news,  but  fatal  news,  long  withheld.  Had 
Dan  Anderson  come  back  unhurt  from  his  sheriff's 
errand,  there  would  have  been  no  message  at  all,  and 
silence  would  have  been  sweeter  than  this  certainty 
of  evil.  This  messenger,  reticent,  awkward,  embar- 
rassed, brought  her  news  of  Dan  Anderson  —  of 
the  boy  whom  she  had  loved,  of  the  man  she  loved, 
debonair,  mocking,  apparently  careless,  but,  as  she 


HEART'S  DESIRE  347 

herself  knew,  in  his  heart  indomitably  resolved.  Now 
he  was  gone  forever  from  her  life.  He  was  dead! 
She  could  never  see  him  again.  Ah !  why  had  they 
not  used  the  days  of  this  life,  so  brief,  so  soon  ended  ? 
It  was  of  his  death  that  the  messenger  must  speak. 

Curly,  already  sufficiently  perturbed,  witnessed 
all  this  written  on  her  face,  stumbled,  stammered, 
but  was  unable  to  find  coherent  speech ;  although 
he  saw  plainly  enough  the  subterfuge  with  which 
even  now  the  girl  sought  to  hedge  herself  against  pry- 
ing eyes  that  would  have  read  her  secret.  She  began 
again  to  ask  him  of  his  family,  the  same  questions. 
"Is  anything  wrong ?"  she  demanded.  In  some  way 
they  were  seated  before  he  could  go  on. 

"It  ain't  the  twins,  ma'am,"  he  began.  "I  got  — 
I  got  a  letter  for  you.  It's  from  him  —  from  us  — 
that  is,  I  got  a  letter  from  Mr.  Anderson  —  Dan 
Anderson,  you  know." 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket.  The  girl,  thoroughbred, 
looked  him  straight  in  the  face,  pale,  meeting  what  she 
felt  to  be  the  great  moment  of  her  life. 

"Then  he's  alive!    He  must  be!" 

Curly  shook  his  head ;  meaning  that  he  was  feeling 
in  the  wrong  pocket. 

"  He  is  dead !  And  I  did  not  see  him.  He  —  went 
away  — "  Her  chin  quivered.  "Tell  me,"  she 
whispered,  " tell  me!" 

Curly,  busy  in  his  search  for  the  letter,  lost  the 
tragedy  of  this. 


348  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Tell  me,  tell  me,  how  did  it  happen?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  he  ain't  hurt  so  awful,"  remarked 
Curly,  calmly.  "  He  just  got  a  finger  or  so  touched  up 
a  little,  so's  he  couldn't  write  none  to  speak  of,  you  see." 

Her  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  She  feared  to  hope, 
lest  the  truth  might  be  too  cruel;  but  at  length  she 
dared  the  issue.  "Curly,"  said  she,  firmly,  "you  are 
not  telling  me  the  truth." 

"I  know  it,  ma'am,"  replied  Curly,  amiably;  he 
suddenly  realized  that  he  was  not  making  his  own 
case  quite  strong  enough.  "The  fact  is,  he  got  hurt 
a  leetle  bit  worse'n  that.  His  hand,  his  left  —  no, 
I  mean  his  right  hand  got  busted  up  plenty.  Why, 
he  couldn't  cut  his  own  victuals.  The  fact  is,  it's 
maybe  even  a  little  worse'n  that." 

"Tell  me  the  truth!"  the  girl  demanded  steadily. 
"Is  his  arm  gone?" 

"Sure  it  is,"  replied  Curly,  cheerfully,  glad  of 
assistance.  "Do  you  reckon  Dan  Anderson  would 
be  gettin'  anybody  to  write  to  you  for  him  if  he  had 
even  a  piece  of  a  arm  left  in  the  shop  ?  I  reckon  not ! 
He  ain't  that  sort  of  a  man." 

Curly's  sudden  improvement  gave  him  courage. 
"The  fact  is,  ma'am,"  said  he,  "I  got  to  break  this 
thing  to  you  kind  of  gentle.  You  know  how  that  is 
yourself." 

"I  know. all  about  it  now,"  she  said  calmly.  "I 
knew  he  would  not  come  back  —  I  saw  it  in  his  face. 
It  was  all  because  of  that  miserable  railroad  trouble 


HEART'S  DESIRE  349 

that  he  went  away  —  that  he  didn't  ever  come.  It 
was  all  my  own  fault  —  my  fault,  —  but  I  didn't 
mean  it  —  I  didn't  —  " 

Curly,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  found  himself 
engaged  in  an  important  emotional  situation.  He 
rose  and  gazed  down  at  her  with  solemn  pity  written 
upon  his  countenance. 

"Ma'am,"  he  said,  "I  don't  like  to  see  you  take 
on.  I  wish't  you  wouldn't.  Why,  I've  seen  men 
shot  like  Dan  Anderson  is,  bullets  clean  through  the 
middle  of  their  body,  and  them  out  and  frisky  in 
less'n  six  weeks." 

"He  m7Z  live?" 

"Oh,  well"  and  Curly  rubbed  his  chin  in  delibera- 
tion, "  I  can't  say  about  that.  He  might  live.  You 
see,  there  ain't  no  doctor  at  Heart's  Desire.  The 
boys  just  took  care  of  him  the  best  they  could. 
They  brung  him  home  from  quite  a  ways  off.     They 

—  they  cut  his  arm  off  easy  as  they  could,  them  not 
bein'  reg'lar  doctors.  They  —  they  sewed  him  up 
fine.  He  was  shot  some  in  the  fight  with  the  Kid's 
gang,  out  to  the  Piiios  Altos  ranch.  The  sherf  tole 
me  hisself  Dan  was  as  game  a  man  as  ever  throwed 
a  leg  over  a  saddle.  When  he  got  back  from  takin' 
the  Kid  up  to  Vegas,  the  sherf  —  that's  Ben  Stillson 

—  he  starts  down  to  Cruces.  Convention  there  this 
week,  ma'am.  Ben,  he  allowed  he'd  get  Dan  An- 
derson nomernated  for  Congress  —  that  is,  if  he  hadn't 
'a'  got  killed." 


350  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"I  knew  he  was  a  brave  man/'  said  the  girl, 
quietly.     "I've  known  that  a  long  time." 

"You  didn't  know  any  more'n  us  fellers  knowed 
all  along,"  said  Curly.  "There  never  was  a  squarer, 
nor  a  whiter,  nor  a  gamer  man  stood  on  leather  than 
him.  He  come  out  here  to  stay,  and  he's  the  sort 
that  we  all  wouldn't  let  go  of.  Some  of  'em  goes 
back  home.  He  didn't.  What  there  was  here  he 
could  have.  For  one  while  we  thought  he  was 
throwin'  us  down  in  this  railroad  deal,  but  now  we 
know  he  wasn't.  We  done  elected  him  mayor,  and 
right  soon  we're  goin'  to  elect  him  something  bet- 
ter'n  that  —  if  they  ain't  started  it  already  over  to 
Cruces  —  that  is,  I  mean,  if  he  ever  gets  well,  which 
ain't  likely  —  him  bein'  dead.  Now  I  hate  to  talk 
this-a-way  to  you,  ma'am;  I  ought  to  give  you  this 
letter.  But  I  leave  it  to  you  if  I  ain't  broke  it  as 
gentle  as  any  feller  could." 

Curly  saw  the  bowed  head,  and  soared  to  still 
greater  heights.  "Ma'am,"  said  he,  "I  don't  see 
why  you  take  on  the  way  j^ou  do.  We  all  know  that 
you  don't  care  a  damn  for  Dan  Anderson,  or  for 
Heart's  Desire.  Dan  Anderson  knowed  that  hisself, 
and  has  knowed  it  all  along.  You  got  no  right  to  cry. 
You  got  no  right  to  let  on  what  you  don't  really  feel. 
I  won't  stand  for  that  a  minute,  ma'am.  Now  I'm 
—  I'm  plumb  sincere  and  truthful.  No  frills  goes." 
There  was  the  solemnity  of  conscious  virtue  in  his 
voice  as  he  went  on. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  351 

"I'm  this  much  of  a  mind-reader,  ma'am/'  said  he, 
"that  I  know  you  don't  care  a  snap  of  your  finger 
for  Dan  Anderson.  That's  everdent.  I  ain't  in  on 
that  side  of  the  play.  I'm  just  here  to  say  that,  so 
far  as  he's  concerned  hisself,  he'd  'a'  laid  down  and 
died  cheerful  any  minute  of  his  life  for  you." 

She  flung  upward  a  tearful  face  to  look  at  him  once 
more. 

"He  just  worships  the  place  where  your  shadow 
used  to  fall  at,  that's  all,"  said  Curly, firmly.  "He 
don't  talk  of  nothing  else  but  you,  ma'am." 

"How  dare  he  talk  of  me!"  she  flashed. 

"  Oh,  that  is  —  well,  that  is,  he  don't  talk  so  blamed 
much,  after  all"  stammered  Curly.  " Leastwise,  not 
none  now.  He's  out  of  his  head  most  of  the  time, 
now." 

"Then  you've  not  told  me  everything,  even  yet," 
exclaimed  she,  piteously. 

"Not  quite,"  said  Curly,  with  a  long  breath;  "but 
I'm  a-comin'  along." 

"He's  dying!"  she  cried  with  conviction.  Curly, 
now  taking  an  impersonal  interest  in  the  dramatic 
aspect  of  the  affair,  solemnly  turned  away  his  head 

"Ma'am,"  said  he,  at  length,  "he  thought  a  heap 
of  you  when  he  was  alive.  We  —  we  all  did,  but  he 
did  special  and  private  like.  Why,  ma'am,  if  you'd 
come  and  stand  by  his  grave,  he'd  wake  up  now  and 
welcome  you !  You  see,  I  am  a  married  man  my  own 
self,  and  Tom  Osby,  he's  been  married  copious;  and 


352  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Tom  and  me,  we  both  allowed  just  like  I  said.  We 
knew  the  diseased  would  have  done  that  cheerful 
—  if  he  had  any  sort  of  chanct." 

The  girl  sprang  up.  "He's  not  dead!"  she  cried, 
and  her  eyes  blazed,  her  natural  courage  refusing  to 
yield.    "I'll  not  believe  it  I" 

"I  didn't  ast  you  to,  ma'am,"  said  Curly.  "He 
ain't  plumb  dead;  he's  just  threatened.  Oh,  say, 
you've  kind  of  got  me  rattled,  you  see.  I've  got  a 
missage  —  I  mean  a  missive  —  anyways  a  letter, 
from  him.  I  had  it  in  my  pants  pocket  all  the  time, 
and  thought  it  was  in  my  coat.  Them  was  the  last 
words  he  wrote." 

She  tore  the  letter  from  his  hand,  and  her  eyes 
caught  every  word  of  it  at  the  first  glance. 

"This  is  not  his  letter!"  she  exclaimed.  "He 
never  wrote  it !    It's  not  in  his  hand !" 

"Ma'am,"  said  Curly,  virtuously  grieved,  "how 
could  you!  I  didn't  say  he  wrote  it.  He  had  to 
have  a  amanyensis,  of  course,  —  him  a-layin'  there 
all  shot  up.  Nobody  said  it  was  his  handwritin'. 
It  ain't  his  handwritin'.  It's  his  heartwritm'. 
They  sign  it  with  their  hearts,  ma'am!  Now  I  tell 
you  that  for  the  truth,  and  you  can  gamble  on  that, 
anyways. 

"I  think  I  had  better  g*.  away.  I'm  hungry,  any- 
how," he  added,  turning  away. 

"Soon!"  she  said,  si  retching  out  her  hand. 
"Wait!"  her  other  hand  trembled  as  she  devoured 


HEART'S  DESIRE  353 

the  pages  of  the  message  to  the  queen.    Her  cheeks 
flushed. 

"Oh,  read  it,  ma'am!"  said  Curly,  querulously. 
"Read  it  and  get  sorry.  If  you  can  read  that  there 
letter  from  Dan  Anderson  —  signed  with  his  heart  — 
and  not  hit  the  trail  for  his  bedside,  then  I've  had  a 
almighty  long  ride  for  nothing." 


2a 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  GIRL  AT  HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  Story  of  a  Surprise,  a  Success,  and  Something  Else 
Very  Much  Better 

As  Curly  stumped  away,  his  spurs  clinking  on  the 
gallery  floor,  he  encountered  Mr.  Ellsworth,  who  held 
out  his  hand  in  recognition. 

"I  just  heard  some  one  was  down  from  the  town," 
he  began.    "How  are  you,  and  what's  the  news?" 

"Mighty  bad,"  said  Curly,  "mighty  bad."  Then 
to  himself:  "0  Lord!  I'm  in  for  it  again,  and 
worse.  I'd  a  heap  rather  lie  to  a  woman  than  a 
man  —  it  seems  more  natural." 

"Bring  any  word  down  with  you  from  up  there?" 
asked    Ellsworth.    Curly  nodded.    "I  brung  a  let- 
ter," said  he. 
"  That  so  ?    What's  it  about  ? " 
"Well,  sir,  it  bein'  a  letter  to  a  lady — " 
"You  mean  my  daughter?    Now,  what — " 
"Yes,  it's  for  her,"  admitted  Curly;  "but  it's  per- 
sonal." l' 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  but  it  might  be  news  from 
that  yoimg  man,  Anderson.  You  know  he  went 
with  the  posse.     Do  you  happen  to  know?" 

354 


HEART'S  DESIRE  355 

"You  ask  her.    It  is,  though." 

"Did  he  send  you  down  here?" 

"I'm  almighty  hungry;  I  ain't  had  no  breakfast, 
nor  nothing. ' '    Whereupon  Curly  bolted. 

Ellsworth,  disturbed,  went  in  search  of  Constance. 
He  found  her,  a  crumpled  and  pathetic  figure.  The 
news  then  had,  indeed,  been  bad ! 

"Now,  now,  child,"  he  began,  "what's  up  here? 
You've  a  letter,  the  man  tells  me." 

She  covered  it  with  her  hand  as  it  lay  in  her  lap. 
"Is  it  from  him,  young  Anderson?"  he  asked.  She 
nodded. 

"It's  written  by  a  friend  of  his,"  she  answered 
presently.  "He  himself  couldn't  write.  He  was 
too  —  ill." 

"Sent  for  you?"    His  voice  was  grave. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  "when  it  was  too  late." 

"We'll  go,"  he  said  with  decision.  "Get  ready. 
Maybe  there  is  some  mistake." 

"  Don't,"  she  begged,  "  there  is  no  mistake.  I  knew 
it  would  happen;  I  felt  it." 

"By  Jove,  I  hope  it's  not  true;  I  was  beginning 
to  think  a  good  deal  of  that  boy  myself." 

Constance  was  passing  through  the  door  on  her 
way  to  her  room.  She  turned  and  blazed  at  him. 
"Then  why  didn't  you  talk  that  way  before?" 

She  disappeared,  and  left  him  staring  after  her, 
through  the  open  door. 

An  hour  later  a  buckboard,   driven  by  a  silent 


356  HEART'S  DESIRE 

Mexican,  rolled  down  the  Sky  Top  canon,  bound  for 
the  northern  trail. 

Curly  finished  his  breakfast,  and  then  went  out  in 
search  of  his  horse,  which  presently  he  found  stand- 
ing dejectedly,  close  where  it  had  been  left,  apparently 
anchored  by  the  reins  thrown  down  over  its  head 
and  dragging  on  the  ground.  Curly  seated  himself 
on  the  ground  near  by  and  addressed  his  misan- 
thropic steed  in  tones  of  easy  familiarity. 

"Pinto,"  said  he,  "you  remind  me  of  a  heap  of 
folks  I  know.  You  think  them  reins  holds  you,  but 
they  don't.  They  ain't  tied  to  nothing.  You're  just 
like  them,  hitched  tight  to  a  fool  notion,  that's  all. 
If  I  don't  take  your  bridle  off,  you'll  stand  there  and 
starve  to  death,  like  a  good  many  fool  folks  I've 
heard  of.    You've  got  to  eat,  Pinto." 

Curly  arose  and  with  a  meditative  finger  traced 
the  outlines  of  the  continental  maps  displayed  on 
Pinto's  parti-colored  flanks.  That  cynical  beast, 
with  small  warning,  kicked  at  him  viciously. 

"Oh,  there  you  go!"  remonstrated  Curly;  "can't 
you  get  tired  enough  to  be  decent?  Git  on  away 
—  vamos ! " 

He  stripped  off  the  bridle  from  Pinto's  head,  and 
again  gave  him  a  friendly  slap,  as  he  drove  him  off  to 
graze,  without  any  precaution  to  prevent  his  running 
away.  As  for  himself,  Curly  lay  down  upon  the 
ground,  his  face  on  his  arm,  and  was  soon  fast  asleep 
in  the  glaring  sun.    Pinto,  misanthropic  as  he  was, 


HEART'S  DESIRE  357 

did  not  abuse  the  confidence  reposed  in  him.  He 
walked  off  to  a  trickle  of  water  which  came  down 
from  a  mountain  spring,  and  grazed  steadily  upon  the 
coarse  mountain  grass,  but  every  now  and  then, 
under  the  strange  bond  which  sometimes  exists 
between  horse  and  man,  wandered  around  to  look 
inquiringly  at  his  sleeping  master,  whom  he  would 
gladly  have  brained  upon  occasion,  but  upon  whom, 
none  the  less,  he  relied  blindly. 

There  were  long  shadows  slanting  toward  the  east- 
ward when  Curly  arose  and  again  saddled  up  his  mis- 
fit mount.  He  knew  that  the  buckboard  was  well 
in  advance  of  him  in  time,  but  it  must  take  the  longer 
wagon  trail  to  the  westward  of  Sky  Top,  while  for 
himself  there  were  shorter  paths  across  the  moun- 
tains. He  rode  on  until  night  fell,  and  the  moon  arose, 
flooding  all  the  mountain  range  with  wondrous  sil- 
very light,  which  grew  the  plainer  as  he  left  the 
whispering  pines  and  came  into  the  dwindled  pinons 
of  the  lower  levels.  Then  up  and  down,  over  and 
over,  he  crossed  the  edges  of  other  spurs,  coming 
down  from  the  great  backbone  of  the  range.  It  was 
past  midnight  when  he  reached  the  flat-topped  mesa 
near  the  Nogales  divide,  where  there  were  no  trees 
at  all,  and  where  ancient  pottery,  relics  of  a  forgot- 
ten Heart's  Desire  of  another  race  and  time,  crum- 
bled beneath  his  horse's  hoofs.  Here  Curly  loosened 
the  saddle  cinches,  flung  down  the  bridle-rein  over 
Pinto's  head  again,  and  himself  lay  down  to  sleep, 


358  HEART'S  DESIRE 

uncovered,  but  hardy  as  any  mountain  bear  that 
roamed  the  hills. 

When  he  awoke  the  red  sun  hung  poised  on  the 
shoulder  of  Blanco,  far  away,  as  though  to  receive 
the  ghostly  worship  of  those  who  once  lived  and 
loved,  and  prayed  here,  in  the  long  ago.  So  now  he 
ate  as  he  might,  and  drank  at  the  Rio  Bonito,  a  dozen 
miles  farther  on,  and  went  his  way  comforted. 

Dropping  down  rapidly  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
Nogales,  Pinto  shambling  along  discontentedly  but 
steadily,  Curly  at  length  came  to  the  wagon  trail 
which  led  along  the  edge  of  the  plain  on  the  western 
side  of  these  ranges  which  he  had  threaded.  He 
leaned  forward  and  examined  the  trail  for  wheel 
marks. 

"By  Jinks !  Pinto,"  he  muttered,  "the  old  man  and 
the  girl  is  shore  hittin'  the  trail  hard  for  that  there 
death-bed.  I'll  bet  that  pore  girl's  tired,  for  they 
must  have  made  a  short  camp  last  night.  Vamos, 
cofoallol"  and  so  he  spurred  on  to  the  northward 
along  the  hot  low  flats. 

By  noon  he  sighted  a  dust  cloud  on  ahead,  which 
told  him  that  he  had  the  other  party  well  in  hand  if 
he  liked,  in  spite  of  the  speed  they  were  making. 

"They  travelled  all  night,  that's  what  they  did! 
If  that  Mexican  don't  kill  his  team,  it's  a  lucky  thing." 
He  did  not  seek  to  close  the  gap  between  them,  but 
on  the  other  hand  pulled  up  and  rode  more  slowly. 

"Now,  Pinto,"  he  pondered,  "whatever  in  the  world 


HEART'S  DESIRE  359 

am  I  goin'  to  do  when  we  all  pull  into  town  ?  Death- 
bed —  and  him  like  enough  settin'  up  and  playin' 
solitaire,  or  out  pitchin'  horse  shoes.  Shucks!  If 
I  could  git  around  behind  Dan  Anderson's  house,  I 
believe  I'd  shoot  him  a  few  for  luck,  so's  to  make 
some  sort  of  death-bed  scene  like  is  announced  in  the 
small  bills.  We've  been  playin'  it  low  down  on 
them  two  folks,  and  for  one,  I  wish't  I  was  out  of 
it.  Pinto,  this  here  particular  trusted  henchman  has 
shore  got  cold  feet  right  here." 

He  trailed  behind  the  buckboard  hour  after  hour, 
dropping  back  into  a  gully  for  concealment  now  ard 
then,  and  putting  off  the  unpleasant  hour  of  meeting 
as  long  as  possible.  He  kept  in  the  rear  until  the 
vehicle  turned  in  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon  which 
led  up  to  the  valley  of  Heart's  Desire.  Then  Curly 
hastened,  and  so  finally  clattered  up  alongside  the 
buckboard.  Ellsworth  was  gray  with  fatigue,  and 
Constance  worn  and  pale ;  seeing  which  Curly  cursed 
himself,  Tom  Osby,  and  all  animate  and  inanimate 
things.  "It's  a  shame,  that's  what  it  is!"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself  reproachfully,  and  averted  his  face 
when  Constance  smiled  at  him  bravely  and  dis- 
claimed fatigue. 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  sink  beyond  Baxter  peak 
as  they  came  in  view  of  the  little  straggling  town, 
clinging  hard  to  the  earth  as  it  had  through  so  many 
years  of  oblivion.  It  was  an  enchanted  valley  upon 
which  they  gazed.    The  majestic  robes  of  the  purple 


360  HEART'S  DESIRE 

shadows,  tremendous,  wide-spreading,  yet  soft  as  the 
texture  of  thrice-piled  velvet,  were  falling  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  hills.  An  unspeakable,  stately  calm 
came  with  the  hour  of  evening.  It  was  a  world 
apart,  beautiful,  unreal,  sweet  and  full  of  peace. 
Far,  far  from  here  were  all  the  tinselled  trappings 
of  an  artificial  world,  distant  the  clamorings  of  a 
disturbing  civilization  with  its  tears  and  terrors. 
Battle  and  striving,  anxiety  and  doubt,  apprehen- 
sion and  repinings  —  the  envy  and  the  jealousies  and 
little  fears  of  life  —  none  of  these  lay  in  the  lap  of 
old  and  calm  Carrizo.  Peace,  rest,  and  pause, — 
these  things  were  here. 

The  ravens  of  the  Lord  had  cared  for  those  who 
had  come  hither,  pausing,  dreaming,  for  a  pulse- 
beat  in  a  frenzied  century  of  rapacity  and  greed. 
Would  the  ravens  care  for  a  now  pale-faced,  trem- 
bling girl? 

"It's  perty,  ain't  it,  ma'am?"  said  Curly.  She 
looked  at  him  and  understood  many  things. 

But  Curly  left  them  traitorously,  almost  as  soon 
as  they  entered  the  lower  end  of  the  street,  intent 
upon  plans  of  his  own.  Those  in  the  slower  buck- 
board,  whose  tired  team  could  ill  afford  any  gait  be- 
yond a  walk,  saw  him  set  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
dash  ahead.  There  came  more  and  more  plainly 
to  their  ears  the  sound  of  a  vast  confused  shouting, 
mingled  with  rapid  punctuation  of  revolver  fire. 
As  they  came  into  full  view  of  the  middle  portion  of 


HEART'S  DESIRE  361 

the  street,  they  saw  it  occupied  by  the  entire  popu- 
lation of  Heart's  Desire,  all  apparently  gone  mad 
with  some  incomprehensible  emotion. 

"What's  the  matter?  What's  the  matter?"  Mr. 
Ellsworth  called  out  to  one  man  after  another  as 
they  passed;  but  none  of  them  answered  him.  Co- 
herent speech  seemed  to  have  deserted  all.  "Here, 
you,  Curly!"  he  shouted.    "What's  all  this  about?" 

Curly,  after  a  swift  dash  up  the  street,  was  now 
spurring  back  madly,  his  hat  swinging  in  the  air, 
himself  crazed  as  the  others. 

"  He's  in ! "  he  yelled.    "  We  done  it ! " 

"Who's  in?    What've  you  done?" 

"  Dan  Anderson  —  nomernated  him  for  Congress  — 
day  'fore  yestidday,  over  to  Cruces.  Whole  conven- 
tion went  solid  —  Cruces  and  Dona  Ana,  Blanco  — 
whole  kit  and  b'ilin'  of  'em.  Ben  Stillson  done  it  — 
boys  just  heard  —  heard  the  news!"  After  which 
Curly  relapsed  into  a  series  of  yells  which  closed  the 
incident. 

'Constance  listened,  open-eyed  and  silent.  So  then, 
he  had  succeeded !  The  joy  in  his  success,  the  pride 
in  his  victory,  brought  a  flush  to  her  cheek;  but  in 
the  same  moment  the  light  faded  from  her  eye.  She 
caught  her  father  by  the  shoulder  almost  fiercely. 
"Look  at  them!"  she  exclaimed.  "They're  proud 
of  their  victory,  but  they  do  not  think  of  him.  See ! 
He  is  not  here." 

Her  father,  sniffing  politics,  was  forgetting  all  else ; 


362  HEART'S  DESIRE 

but  sobered  at  this  speech,  he  now  motioned  the  driver 
to  move  on.  McKinney  was  there,  Doc  Tomlinson, 
Uncle  Jim  Brothers  —  the  man  from  Leavenworth 
—  many  whom  they  knew,  but  not  Dan  Anderson. 

As  they  turned  from  the  street  to  cross  the  arroyo, 
they  saw  following  at  a  respectful  distance  both 
Curly  and  Tom  Osby,  the  latter  walking  at  Curly's 
saddle-skirt,  for  reasons  not  visible  at  a  distance. 
Tom  Osby  was  still  continuing  his  protestations. 
"You  go  on  over,  Curly,"  said  he.  "You've  done 
mighty  well ;  now  go  on  and  finish  up.  I  ain't  in  on 
the  messenger  part." 

"Maybe  not,"  replied  Curly,  "but  both  halfs  of  this 
here  amanyensis  is  goin'  over  there  together.  I  told 
that  girl  that  Dan  Anderson  was  shot  to  a  finish  and 
just  about  to  cash  in.  Now  here's  all  this  hoorah 
about  his  bein'  put  up  for  Congress !  I  dunno  what 
she'll  find  when  she  gets  into  that  house,  but  which- 
ever way  it  goes,  she's  due  to  think  I'm  a  damned  liar. 
You  come  along,  or  I'll  take  you  over  on  a  rope." 

The  two  conspirators  crossed  the  arroyo  and  paused 
at  the  path  which  led  up  to  Dan  Anderson's  little 
cabin.  They  saw  Mr.  Ellsworth  and  Constance 
leave  the  buckboard  and  stop  uncertainly  at  the 
door.  They  saw  him  knock  and  step  half  within, 
then  withdraw  and  gently  push  his  daughter  ahead 
of  him.  Then  he  stood  outside,  his  hat  in  hand, 
violently  mopping  his  brow.  As  he  caught  sight  of 
the  two  laggards  he  beckoned  them  peremptorily. 


HEART'S  DESIRE  363 

"0  Lord!"  moaned  Tom  Osby;  "now  here's 
what  that  sheepherder  done  to  us,  with  his  missive 
and  his  signet  ring." 

Constance  Ellsworth  had  grown  deadly  pale  as 
she  approached  the  dwelling.  The  open  door  let  in 
upon  a  darkened  interior.  There  was  no  light,  no 
ray  of  hope  to  comfort  her.  There,  as  it  seemed  to 
her,  in  that  tomblike  abode,  lay  the  end  of  all  her 
happiness.  In  her  heart  was  only  the  prayer  that 
she  might  find  him  able  still  to  recognize  her. 

At  her  father's  gesture  she  stepped  to  the  door  — 
and  stopped.  The  blood  went  first  to  her  heart,  and 
then  flamed  back  into  her  face.  Her  cheeks  tingled. 
Her  hand  fell  lax  from  the  door  jamb,  and  she  half 
staggered  against  it  for  support,  limp  and  helpless. 

There  before  her,  and  busily  engaged  in  writing  — 
so  busy  that  he  had  merely  called  out  a  careless  in- 
vitation to  enter  when  he  heard  the  knock  of  what 
he  presumed  to  be  a  chance  caller  —  there,  perhaps 
a  trifle  pale,  but  certainly  well,  and  very  much  him- 
self, sat  Dan  Anderson ! 

"He's  alive!"  whispered  Constance  to  her  heart. 
"He's  going  to  live!" 

The  future  delegate  from  the  Territory  had  slunk 
away  from  the  noisy  street  to  pen  some  line  of  ac- 
knowledgment to  his  friend  the  sheriff  of  Blanco. 
He  had  succeeded,  so  he  reasoned  with  himself  in- 
sistently ;  and  yet  a  strange  apathy,  a  sadness  rather 
than  exultation,  enveloped  him.    The  world  lay  dull 


364  HEART'S  DESIRE 

and  gray  around  him.  The  price  of  his  success  had 
been  the  sight  of  a  face  worth  more  to  him  than  all 
else  in  the  world.  He  had  won  something,  but  had 
lost  everything.  His  hand  stopped,  his  pencil  fell 
upon  the  paper.  He  looked  up  —  to  see  her  stand- 
ing at  his  door ! 

Dumb,  unbelieving,  he  gazed  and  gazed.  She 
turned  from  red  to  pale,  before  his  eyes,  and  still  he 
could  not  speak.  He  knew  that  in  an  instant  the 
vision  would  fade  away. 

"Oh,  why,  hello !"  said  he  at  last,  weakly. 

"How  —  that  is,  how  do  you  do?"  Constance  said, 
flushing  adorably  again. 

"I  didn't  expect  —  I  didn't  know  you  were 
coming,"  stammered  Dan  Anderson. 

She  chilled  at  this,  but  went  on  wonderingly.  "I 
got  your  letter  — "  she  began. 

"Letter  ?    My  letter  —  what  letter  ? " 

Constance  looked  at  him  fairly  now,  agitation 
sufficiently  gone  to  enable  her  to  notice  details.  She 
saw  that  Dan  Anderson's  left  arm  was  supported 
upon  the  table,  but  apparently  not  seriously  injured. 
And  he  had  been  writing  —  with  his  right  hand  —  at 
this  very  moment !  She  almost  sank  to  the  ground. 
There  had  been  some  cruel  misunderstanding !  Was 
she  always  to  be  repudiated,  shamed?  She  stood 
faltering,  and  would  have  turned  away. 

But  by  this  time  Dan  Anderson's  own  numbed 
faculties  came  back  to  him  with  a  rush.    With  a 


HEART'S  DESIRE  365 

bound  he  was  at  her  side,  his  right  arm  about  her, 
holding  her  close,  strong. 

"  Constance ! "  he  cried.  "  Constance !  You !  You  ! " 
He  babbled  many  things,  his  cheek  pressed  against 
hers.    She  could  not  speak. 

"You  see  —  you  see  —  "  exclaimed  Dan  Anderson, 
at  length,  half  freeing  her  to  look  the  more  directly 
into  her  eyes,  and  to  assure  himself  once  more  that  it 
all  was  true  —  "I  didn't  understand  at  first.  Of 
course,  I  sent  the  letter.  I  wrote  it.  I  couldn't 
wait  —  I  couldn't  endure  it  any  longer.  Darling, 
I  couldn't  live  without  you  —  and  so  I  wrote,  I  wrote ! 
And  you've  come!" 

"But    your   handwriting — "    she   murmured. 

"Of  course!  of  course!"  said  Dan  Anderson.  He 
was  lying  beautifully  now.  "But  of  course  you 
know  I'm  left-handed,  and  my  left  arm  got  hurt  a 
while  ago,  so  I  couldn't  use  that  hand.  I  don't 
suppose  my  handwriting  did  look  quite  natural  to 
you." 

Her  eyes  were  solemn  but  contented  as  she  looked 
into  his  face,  and  saw  that  in  spite  of  his  words  he 
was  as  much  mystified  as  herself.  Slowly  she  pre- 
sented to  him  the  letter  which  he  had  never  seen. 
His  face  grew  grave  and  tender  as  he  read  it  line  for 
line. 

"It  is  mine!"  he  said.  "I  wrote  it.  I  sent  it. 
I've  sent  it  a  thousand  times  to  you  before  now, 
across  the  mountains." 


366  HEART'S  DESIRE 

"Is  it  signed  with  your  heart,  Dan?"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"With  my  heart  —  yes,  yes  !M 

"It  is  beautiful,"  said  she,  simply.  And  so  they 
dropped  between  them  the  letter  to  the  queen. 
Hand  in  hand  they  stepped  to  the  door,  the  room 
too  small  now  to  contain  their  happiness. 

Two  stumbling  figures  fleeing,  pigeon-toed  and 
sharp-heeled,  on  the  further  side  of  the  arroyo 
meant  much  to  Dan  Anderson.  A  laugh  choked  in 
his  throat  as  he  caught  her  once  more  in  his  arms. 

"It  looks  like  Willie  had  made  good!"  said  Tom 
Osby  to  Curly,  as  he  took  a  swift  glance  back  over 
his  shoulder. 

But  Constance  and  her  lover  had  forgotten  all  the 
world,  as  they  stepped  out  now  into  the  glory  of  the 
twilight  of  Heart's  Desire. 

"You  remember,"  said  he  —  "up  there  —  the 
other  time?"  He  nodded  toward  the  head  of  the 
arroyo,  where  lay  the  garden  of  the  Littlest  Girl. 

"You  broke  my  heart,"  she  murmured.  "I  loved 
you,  Dan.     What  could  I  do?" 

"Don't !"  he  begged  as  he  tightened  his  arm  about 
her.  "I  loved  you,  Constance  —  what  could  I  do? 
We've  been  through  the  fire  together.  It  has  all  come 
right.    It's  all  so  beautiful." 

They  stood  together  at  the  little  garden  spot.  Two 
brave  red  roses  now  blossomed  there,  and  he  plucked 
them  both,  pinning  them  at  her  throat  with  hands 


HEART'S  DESIRE  367 

that  trembled.  They  turned  and  looked  out  over 
the  little  valley,  and  to  them  it  seemed  a  golden  cup 
overrunning  with  joy. 

"  Heart's  Desire,"  he  murmured,  and  once  more 
his  cheek  rested  against  hers. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered  vaguely,  "all,  all  —  your 
Heart's  Desire,  I  hope  —  and  mine  —  mine." 

"It's  the  world,"  he  murmured.  "It  is  the  Begin- 
ning.   We  are  the  very  first.    Oh,  Eve!    Eve!" 


THE  GAME 

A  TRANSCRIPT  FROM  REAL  LIFE 

By  JACK  LONDON 
Author  of  "  The  Call  of  the  Wild,"  "  The  Sea-Wolf,"  etc. 

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THE  STORM  CENTRE 

By  CHARLES  EGBERT  CRADDOCK 

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THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW  YORK 


A  DARK  LANTERN 

A  STORY  WITH  A  PROLOGUE 

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The  Memoirs  of  an  American  Citizen 

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Author  of  "  The  Common  Lot,"  "  The  Real  World,"  etc.,  etc 

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in  an  imaginary  land  could  possibly  do.  The  "  American  "  of  his 
new  story  walks  into  the  Chicago  markets  from  Indiana,  to  all  ap- 
pearances a  tramp  —  in  reality  a  country  boy  who  has  quarrelled 
with  his  home  surroundings  and  flung  himself  into  the  city  to  fight 
for  a  future.  The  novel  opens  in  time  and  scenes  of  Chicago  in 
1877.  It  includes  among  other  incidents  a  glimpse  of  the  strained 
days  of  the  Haymarket  riot  and  the  trial  that  followed.  It  is  a 
novel  with  more  than  a  passing  appeal  to  one's  sympathies,  and 
taken  as  a  whole  seems  certain  to  be  at  once  the  most  popular  and 
the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Herrick  has  written. 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  HEW  YORK 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CARDS 

A  RECORD 

By  JOHN  HEIGH 

Sometime  Major  U.S.A. 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

Glimpses  of  many  fascinating  figures  are  seen  in  this  chronicle. 
The  old,  old  social  warfares  of  Boston  and  Philadelphia  come  out 
now  and  then  amusingly.  The  chief  character  is  one  of  the  modern 
kings  of  finance  —  "a  promoter?  Not  at  all!  He  reorganizes 
railroads  and  things;  one  railway  he  has  reorganized  three  times; 
and  these  rejuvenated  concerns  have  been  very  grateful  to  him. 
He  is  rich  beyond  all  decent  guessing,  my  friend  of  fifty  years,  and 
I  regard  him  as  the  most  dangerous  man  in  America."  So  his 
story  is  told  by  his  oldest  friend,  with  little  thrusts  of  grim  humor; 
yet  with  a  very  strong  and  sweet  undercurrent  of  sentiment.  It 
has  an  altogether  indescribable  tone  that  is  admirably  in  keeping 
with  one's  mental  picture  of  the  veteran  soldier  and  scholar  who 
tells  the  tale  to  young  "  Waltham  Eliot,  late  of  Boston,  who  has 
come  to  settle  in  Philadelphia,  live  on  law,  and  be  honest !  "  But  in 
the  last  analysis  it  is  a  love-story  of  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever. 


MRS.  DARRELL 

By  FOXCROFT  DAVIS 

Author  of  "Despotism  and  Democracy" 

With  Illustrations  by  William  Sherman  Potts 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

"Mrs.  Darrell"  is  a  penetrating  bit  of  analysis  in  the  form  of  an 
exceptionally  good  story  of  the  social  side  of  high  political  life  in 
the  national  capital. 

Its  very  genuine  people  are  sketched  with  a  light  touch,  a  deli- 
cacy of  expression,  that  make  the  book  enjoyable  reading.  Those 
who  know  the  city  well  enough  to  recognize  the  unerring  accuracy 
of  even  its  minor  details  will  wonder  over  the  skill  which  has  pro- 
duced such  real,  interestingly  varied  types.  It  is  full  of  highly 
diverting  humor  without  a  trace  of  satirical  sting;  on  the  contrary, 
its  prevailing  tone  is  refreshingly  wholesome. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

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THE  SECRET  WOMAN 

By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 
Author  of  "The  American  Prisoner,"  "My  Devon  Year,"  etc 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

"There  cannot  be  two  opinions  as  to  the  interest  and  the  power 
of  '  The  Secret  Woman.'  It  is  not  only  its  author's  masterpiece,  but 
it  is  far  in  advance  of  anything  he  has  yet  written  —  and  that  is  to 
give  it  higher  praise  than  almost  any  other  comparison  with  corn- 
temporary  fiction  could  afford." 


THE  LODESTAR 

By  SIDNEY  R.  KENNEDY 

With  Illustrations  by  The  Kinneys 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

"  The  novel  is  full  of  humor,  a  humor  of  a  gentle,  quiet,  almost 
wistful  quality,  and  its  effect  is  to  make  us  more  in  love  with  life 
and  with  our  fellow-mortals."  —  News  and  Courier. 


THE  MASTER-WORD 

A  STORY  OF  THE  SOUTH  TO-DAY 

By  L.  H.  HAMMOND 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

"Mrs.  Hammond  has  conceived  and  portrayed  what  is  perhaps 
the  most  difficult  situation  on  earth.  .  .  .  The  writer  has  a  large 
heart  and  wide  sympathies;  she  has  told  her  story  freely  and  well, 
treading  both  firmly  and  delicately  on  difficult  ground.  .  .  .  She 
has  done  some  admirable  work,  and  has  achieved  a  striking  story, 
quite  out  of  the  ordinary."  —  N.  Y.  Times. 


THE  GOLDEN  HOPE 

A  STORY  OF  THE  TIME  OF  ALEXANDER  THE  GREAT 

By  ROBERT  H.  FULLER 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

"All  together  this  is  a  powerful  story  and  a  vivid,  correct,  and 
intensely  interesting  picture  of  the  most  prosperous  days  of  the 
Macedonian  kingdom." — The  Watchman. 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 
Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  priod  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


^NTER-LlbRARt 
l=OAN 


JAN  1 8  1971 


MAR  12  1979 


i.u;.  CiK. 


im — Tim 


t  noi  a    «n«,  a  »™  General  Library 

<N8?l™3t04££-l°32  Universi^ofCalifornia 


IB  3297 


31 


i  y 


912873 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


